


TDWP: The Devil's Mistress

by bearblue



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: AU, F/F, Multi, Sci-Fi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-20 00:42:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 56,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13135557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearblue/pseuds/bearblue
Summary: After Paris, in a world where bioengineering is a fact of life and sometimes a fashion accessory, Andrea Sachs had few options, except to rise to the top and become mistress of her own kingdom. Five years later, her world is about to change again as a plot by Miranda's enemies brings the editor low and into Andrea's realm.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Words: BETA and UNFINISHED!
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, which pretty well guarantees that " ownership, " of the some of the characters belongs to others (Lauren Weisberger and 20th Century Fox) and and that this work is entirely based on affection. This is not-for-profit, but for praise or at least enjoyment.
> 
> Beta Readers: Thank yous go to - Melanacious, LadyDragonstorm and Bonnie - my extraordinary friends.
> 
> A/N - This is a "get 'em together" story/ One Shot.  
> A/N - This fiction likely draws from several sources for inspiration - it mostly follows TDWP movie canon as a starting point, however.  
> A/N - I hereby label this story AU. While it starts from the movie core, it is set in a future that has gone wildly different and dangerous. *stamp* AU *endstamp*  
> A/N - This story involves appendages and physical transformations and happy bits connecting. If phallai offend, perhaps this story is not for you. *stamp* CRACKFIC *endstamp*  
> A/N - This story involves futuristic sex-slaves and BDSM and some tropes that contribute to a story of that nature. While it's very mild in comparison to some, there's always the hint of "danger" and stories get told and some tying up and whippy kinds of things and maybe a little blood and sex and hints of noncon (though never between Miranda and Andy) and who knows what will trigger some people so *stamp* AltSEX *endstamp*  
> A/N - This story has serious, definite hints of "bad things that happened to good people." *stamp* TRIGGER Warning *endstamp* That said, this story is also protected by the she-will-never-go-there-clause. Caroline and Cassidy may have been kidnapped and scared, but they are otherwise SAFE. *stamp* Author Safety Zone *endstamp*  
> A/N - Plural/Poly relationships happen to be one of my favorite playgrounds. This fiction enters that territory and really gets digging in it. *stamp* POLYAMORY *endstamp*  
> A/N - This story uses a future-world-gone-bad setting, which means that some events are darker and more dangerous and possibly unfriendly. *stamp* MAYHEM! *endstamp*  
> A/N - I have decided, just for my sanity, that family and really good friend names shall remain generally consistent. Thus, Andy's father's is Richard and her mother is CeCe, etc. This will go for Miranda's family if they ever reveal themselves. The family rule, shall remain consistent across the DWP stories. Though you may see them behaving differently according to their different realities, I shall make some effort to keep characterizations consistent also.  
> A/N - This story has has big dollops of angst, but it ends well.  
> A/N - This story is definitely not a series and may in fact be out there.

The Devil's Mistress Ch. 1

\- TDWP -

Andrea leaned comfortably back against the luxurious office chair, pressed her steepled fingertips against her plump, red lips, and stared at the tall, greasy man and what he'd brought her. Brown eyes observed two girls of average height for their age, pale skin, light freckles, red rimmed blue eyes, straight noses, and thick, wavy red hair. They were twins, dressed in the grey robes of slaves, barefoot, tied together by hand and foot, harnessed with leads hooped in the front, which he held.

The brunette would have recognized them anywhere, and it made her heart ache, but she hardened her expression. She watched them as they trembled and tried not to stand too close to the man. They were still much too young, for any purpose which could have brought them here, but thankfully mostly untouched. She spied only the bruises gained by hands too rough. His words, papers, and the final proofing of her physician vouched for the other. The papers he offered, she knew, were forgeries, but they were good ones which had been unfortunately made legal by a single stamp from a shady government official.

The twins DNA had been registered and accounted. That was problematic. It meant an obligation of ownership, regardless of who she knew them to be, and that meant a specific time-frame or a very specific kind of fiscal exchange; one which would put her in the position of a bad guy. She had little choice in the matter. It was a case of the laws of the land.

The only saving grace was that the two people before her were not political or prison slaves. God help those poor souls. No, these girls had either been sold by someone they knew, had to sell themselves to clear a debt, or had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. Their paperwork said it was a debt-clearance, which was ludicrous. Andrea had never been able to forget their birthday. They were twelve year-olds, though their paperwork claimed that they were older.

The fact that they were out of the States told her that they must have been traveling, despite all the travel warnings, and it was highly doubtful that they had been without their mother. She knew that was truth without even having to think on it. Their presence here, was not something their mother would ever have allowed; not without dying first.

That did not bear thinking. On the other hand... maybe it did. As there was one other alternative, which she dreaded contemplating, but could no longer ignore.

Without more information she would have to guess and simply acknowledge that, as scared as they might be, the twins were were fortunate in some girls' unusual traits had conserved them. It was sheer luck that brought them so quickly to her; that and her own hard-earned prestige.

She had never been a fan of the slave trade, but it was the reality of the times. She knew how to work the system and there were appearances to keep. Her position, one she had suffered for, clawed and fought to gain and change, required certain choices be made. Her usual choice was to buy a slave or five, hold them for the time allotted on their certificate or allow them to purchase or earn their freedom. If they stayed with her or earned their way, by the time they were done, they had skills they could use. Those who served her were employees, free or bought, with a full pay scale and salary. Some continued with her, some went on to University or some other way - all with the correct documentation and proof of time served. If the slave had some wealth squirrelled away somehow and their government or some greedy family member had not appropriated it, then it was simply a matter of fair exchange.

The woman had already earned her keep, but now she made even more. She had several businesses, most of which she'd inherited, but some which she'd originated. Each performed their own functions. Andrea didn't need anyone else's money. However, she couldn't rescue everyone. She could only try to make a difference to some. Those who stayed with her did so out of loyalty, because she was good at what she did and expert at what she offered, and provided an absolutely safe-haven.

She did not have to speak to the slaver personally, and often didn't. She had a broad shouldered, muscle-bound associate for that. He said it for her. "How much?"

An outrageous price was named, but she understood the reasons; rarity and special tastes and youth and a myriad of justifications. None of which tempted her now. More, there would be little bargaining. She would maintain the forms, as she did not wish to reveal too much. But she had no intention of letting these prizes fall into other hands.

Acquirement was a necessity.

But she wanted to know a few things. She motioned to her other agent, a strong looking female, blonde, green-eyed, with pale, full lips. When she leaned over, the brunette cupped her face and whispered intimately into her ear, "Lisle, find out their real purchase history. Get it from his assistant. Find out if there was anyone with them or in the same cargo. Bring me the list."

The woman nodded silently, then left the room. The greasy man smiled nervously. Andrea signaled her man, Derik, to begin the bargaining.

They arrived at a price, one that was still shockingly high, but somehow oddly more acceptable to the slaver. He seemed much more at ease. The girls still trembled, but enough time had passed that they were beginning to take in their surroundings. They looked at her, while keeping their heads down, in quick flashing glances.

The brunette gave no indication of noticing. "Make the payment."

Moments later, the greasy man had an even bigger smile on his face, and a receipt, and her agent had the leashes to the Twins in one hand and their documentation in another. Her other assistant arrived, carrying a tablet, which she handed to Andrea. The slaver started to sidle away when her attention changed focus.

"Emil, you have not been dismissed," Andrea snapped. Those words caused Derik to move. He blocked the door, while the greasy man stopped moving.

She read through the list and forced herself to pass through one particular entry without appearing to pause. "I want number 4289. Please go get it."

The man cleared his throat. "That one..."

"Surely you are not about to tell me that it is not for sale?"

"Well, we've got interested parties. And there were ... uh... directions, you see, from the original owner. She is not... biddable. And well... we haven't be able to begin training yet. Directions ordered treatment, you know, to get her aged right."

Andrea barely hid the wince. "Treatment."

"Youthing. Body enhancement, strength, flexibility, sexuality. One strange thing; the original owner demanded we keep the color of the hair. But we can change it, of course. We also added features."

"Features.

"Well, some specific requests. From the original owner."

"You are aware that the documentation does not list an original owner?"

He managed to squirm. Then finally blurted when he couldn't take her stare any more, "Well, the owner plans on being a purchaser."

"Really, Emil," Andrea drawled. "I expected better of you. I think you would do better to avoid the tax issue, wouldn't you?"

He cleared his throat and looked away from her.

"I will want a list of the features. Follow the original instructions on the hair."

"As you wish."

"She is to be untouched." Andrea said firmly. She knew he knew what she meant. Her rules were always the same. He grimaced. "Save for medical and treatment processes already occurred."

He nodded sharply, relieved.

"My people and I will handle all training. If you have added any emotional supplementation hardware or software, it is to be removed. Alternatively, if this is not something you can process in the next half hour, I will add it to the cost of any fixing I must do and you will see a bill."

He paled and cleared his throat. "Ownership protocols were installed during the first upgrade. We can't rescind that."

She pursed her lips and waved her hand. She was glad she was looking down or Emil might have thought her rage was directed at him. "Fine. You will see to it that no one else has activated the protocol."

"Of course." He looked suddenly nervous.

Andrea looked up, glared and then shook her head. Then she said, "Intelligence supplementation may remain so long as it was an upgrade and not a downgrade. I do not want a stupid slave."

"About that."

She arched a brow.

"It was an upgrade, but there was a limited patch. Completely fixable. The original owner wanted her smart enough to..." Now the slaver grimaced "...know what was happening and why, and some new skill sets added, but... they wanted other specific skill sets gone. Adding is easy, but we're not at a point where we can do partial wipes..."

"I understand. I do know the processes involved." She knew them far too well, in fact. Andrea clenched her teeth against both anger and memory. She had already arrived at a theory about the mysterious original owner or owners. This was fast closing in on a resolution of her hypothesis.

"We can forward a repair program?"

"We have our own." No way was she allowing a chance of a Trojan to do more damage. She wouldn't put it past these mysterious previous owners. Andrea read further down the lists. "I wish also to procure 4297. With similar expectations and conditions. I will pay cash now, seventy-five percent over the price offered by the original owner or competitors." The purchase of the other slave was random, a shield for her real intentions. The sum offered was no meager amount. The slaver hastily agreed. She could practically see the cash signs in rolling in his eyeballs.

"Oh. One more thing. Emil, I shall be very disappointed in you if I find that you are dealing in children." She glanced meaningfully at the twins. Then pointedly said, "Very. Disappointed."

He swallowed and nodded sharply. He knew what that meant. But also knew better than to mention it.

"Derik, pay the man. Make sure the others are delivered to the house in pristine condition."

Andrea stood up and held out her hand. The big man handed her the leashes. "Young ladies, you are with me."

She began walking. As if they had been trained to do so all their lives, they followed quickly, no doubt having learned in very hard ways the consequence of failure to do so. Andrea began making several mental lists all related to fixing the problems that lay ahead.

\- TDWP -

The girls sat in terrified silence as the car glided away from the merchant center. Andrea loosely held their leashes and stared pensively out the window. She waited until they were well away before she turned back to them.

"Caroline." One of the girls squeaked and looked up and at her. Andrea nodded and then said, "Cassidy."

The other girl refused to look up, but Andrea saw a large teardrop fall and hit the grey shift that covered the girl's knee. She reached and lifted the girl's chin. When she was sure they were paying attention she said, "Now, I want you both to listen to me and hear what I say to you. Are you listening?"

They stared at her. Caroline risked and grabbed Cassidy's hand in her own.

Andrea exhaled. "Do you understand what just happened?"

"You bought us."

"Do you know what that means?"

"You own us."

"Do you know what that really means?"

Cassidy's lip began to tremble and she shuddered.

Andrea opened her arms, "Come here."

It was then that they realized that their eyes had not been deceiving them. The sobs came then, but the girls surged toward her. "Andy! Andy!"

"Now." She said very gently. "You must trust me. You will be safe, but you can't go home yet. It may be awhile before you can." Cassidy was pressing into her as if she could hide in Andrea's skin. "You will have a home with me and, I and my people, will take care of you."

"And Mom?" Caroline asked. Her eyes were bright. She too was holding onto Andrea, but she was looking her in the eyes. "What about Mom."

"We did not part well Caroline. But I will take care of her. I will make it better, but..."

"They changed her," Cassidy whispered.

Andrea nodded. "Yes. We will have to see how much."

"Will we be able to see her?"

"I don't know. I don't know what they've done. But I will do what I can."

"Andy?"

"Yes?"

"Why didn't you come back?"

Andrea thought about it a moment. She could have said, and it would have been the truth, that she simply could not return. But instead, she said, "So I could be here for you now."

It was apparently the right answer.

\- TDWP -

She had known it was going to be difficult and not just because the other would refuse to grasp the truth. Andrea let her eyes travel the newly perfected form of Miranda. The older woman had been only modestly reshaped. She had always been healthy and fit and lovely to look at. Now the curves were a little more accentuated and some lines gone. She had been rejuvenated to her prime. Wealthy women would have paid to look as good. Some did.

"I assure you, I am not lying about your current status." Andrea said firmly. She saw no point in hiding the truth. "Do you want to read it?"

The silver-haired woman's lip curled up in a snarl and she snapped a hand out. Andrea's expression remained neutral. She handed the other woman a copy of the document.

Blue eyes quickly ran over the page, as if habit alone would translate. Then she stopped. Confusion washed through her face, then understanding. She looked up at the woman claiming to be her owner. "Wha..."

"Your original owners did not approve of your ability to read. Or write. Or speak."

"Orig o-ow..." The woman's face twisted into a frustrated grimace and she flung the paper away.

"Needless to say, as your current owner, I completely disagree with their assessment. There are, however, several realities which you must confront. The first of which is that it will be a day or two before we can implement some fixes for you. We can undo the basic mental blocks in a single procedure, but our surgeon recommends a period of rest for you. You have been through a great deal in the last seventy-two hours."

"N-n!" The older woman's fist clenched and unclenched reflexively.

"Yes."Andrea said evenly. "And you will allow that rest, not for me, though you must and I shall order it if you resist, but for your children."

Miranda's eyebrows shot up and a murderous expression crossed her face.

"You can try, and you're welcome to it. But you won't like what happens, Miranda." It was the first time Andrea said her name out loud.

Then, because it was inevitable, the woman lunged. She was inhumanly fast.

Andrea did not even twitch as she said sharply, "4289 kneel."

With a inarticulate cry, the woman commanded fell to her knees.

Andrea had always been compassionate, however. Time had provided a kind of strength, which allowed her to hide it some, but she still felt it strongly. She let her voice carry the feeling, "They installed an owners protocol. I activated it. I had the choice not to, of course. But I thought, perhaps, you would not want this in the hands of a stranger. You must know, that it is ... about as permanent as such things can be. Death do us part, Miranda. And even then... I still hear my mistress' voice sometimes."

The editor's head snapped up and she stared at Andrea.

The young woman nodded. "It is not a story I can share, Miranda. Just know, as my mistress was where I was once, so I have also been where you are now. You may trust that I will not do to you, what I would not have done to me."

Andrea firmed her gaze as she watched the tears fall. "There is more, of course. There always is. You will grow needful. But the truth is, you can survive it, if you will be practical. Just, when the urge is upon you, try to be discrete. I or a permitted surrogate will be there for you."

Miranda's stare grew long, and Andrea let it go on until the other woman finally looked away. "Finally. Your girls are safe."'

"Ca..." She tried to get their names out, but could not get past the first syllable.

"Yes. Caroline and Cassidy. They're safe here. They know you've been through forced bioengineering. They know that they have to wait to see you. I wanted to give you a chance to decide if you want to see them as you are now... or to wait until you could speak to them.

Miranda hissed, and pressed her palms against her knees.

"4289, if you want, you may stand."

Tentatively the youthful looking woman who had been her boss in another lifetime, stood up.  
Andrea was careful in her phrasing, "Do you want your daughters to see you now?"

Miranda looked away and shook her head.

"Okay. Okay." Then, because she couldn't resist it, not really, Andrea stepped closer to the woman. She laid her palm against Miranda's cheek. The silver haired woman pressed against her touch, unable to avoid the impulse. "We will make it okay, MIranda. Please, trust me in this."

\- TDWP -

Andrea left Miranda to give her a chance to think and recuperate. She would check in on her in a few hours, but now wanted to go talk with the girls and let them know their mother was in safe hands. She had given Miranda her own space in the compound, one separate from others. The habit of considering her needs still rode strong in the brunette.

She crossed the courtyard and entered the main abode, first level. People scurried about on errands and business. No one stopped her, but Lisle seemed to appear magically by her side, tablet in hand, ready to take notes. Andrea did not stop walking. "So, what does the paper trail tell us?"

"How far back would you like to hear?"

"Summarize."

"It seems 4289 has scads of frenemies, but only a few real ones- either direction. I've narrowed it down three possible persons, all with strong motives, but ones only with the actual funding to accomplish this."

"Do tell."

"One Stephen Tomlinson. One Irv Ravitz. One Jacqueline Follet."

Andrea slowed her steps and turned to Lisle. Those were names that she hadn't heard in years. Her fist clenched and her eyes narrowed. Her enhanced intellect was already beginning to create possible scenarios for how this situation had come about. "I see. Continue."

"The paperwork begins at Herzog Bioengineering Enterprises..."

\- TDWP -

Andy stared at her terminal and considered the message she'd just typed. It would not be enough, she knew, but despite what Lisle told her, she knew at least three people would be frantic to know where Miranda was. She could not let them linger in fear, but neither could she risk giving them access to more than the basic information.

Miranda and her children are alive and in safe keeping. You will be notified when Miranda will be available. Keep Runway running...

Andrea shook her head quietly and stripped out all headers, revised routes and spoofed locations. By the time she was done inputting the hacks, the letter was untraceable. Then, she pressed enter and it was away.

\- TDWP -

"We do have one temporary option for communication. I am strongly considering it, as you now have the components necessary to allow the option. However, I will not have you abusing it. I can't afford the interference and neither can you."

Miranda's jaw flexed, but was listening. Her body was tense, as if each new second in this condition was a personal strike against her dignity.

Andrea had seen the reaction many times, but had never regretted it quite as much as now. Feelings she thought long sequestered conflicted with the realities of the present. She did not ignore them, but neither did she give them much footing. Too much was at stake. She could not appear weak before this woman, not before Miranda understood and was coping better.

"The original intention of bioengineering was to help people. The neural interface was designed to operate non-verbal commands and provide an alternative speech ability. I can allow the application of the technology now, while you recover and wait. Or you can sit here and stew. I had hoped that you would actually sleep, but I realize it was perhaps unrealistic of me."

The older woman glanced away from Andrea. She ignored the lump in her throat that was caused by seeing the ache in Miranda's eyes. "Understand, abuse the privilege and I will rescind it."

She spotted the brief nod and accepted it as agreement. "4289, unblock alpha two - neural interface."

"I don't feel any different." The words filled the room, dulcet, but slightly mechanical.

Miranda stepped back, looking dismayed.

"The interface allows your thoughts to be translated to local speakers via the terminal stations and when mobile, through a lapel pin. You don't have to make every thought known. More, if you will close your eyes, you may notice that you now have a menu. You may not be able to read text on paper at the moment, but you can translate it. I strongly recommend accessing the Help menu and enacting the training protocols."

Miranda's expression tightened, but she closed her eyes. Andrea watched as the woman's eyes moved under her eyelids in REM-like motions. It didn't take long. Miranda's eyelids snapped open to reveal as intense a gaze as Andrea had ever received from the woman. "I... thank you." This time the sound was narrower, more focused.

Andrea nodded. "You're welcome." She nodded at the two chairs set companionably by a window. "Let's sit down. I have some questions."

She watched as Miranda hesitated, then made the choice to be cooperative. Andrea let go of a breath that she'd been holding. She waited until the other woman was seated, and then asked, bluntly, "How the hell did you get here, Miranda?"

Stormy azure eyes found hers. The anger, Andrea absolutely understood. And the fear. She reached out and clasped Miranda's forearm. "I can only help you but so far, if you do not tell me. I can help you more, if I know where it started for you."

Miranda firmed her lips and looked away. The brunette could see the trembling. She wasn't even entirely sure that the other woman would remember, but she still had needed to at least ask.

"I had promised the girls that this time, they could come with me to a fashion week overseas. London was safe. Everyone said so."

"Everyone?"

"Almost." Miranda clasped her hands together and leaned forward. "I should have listened to Emily, but it seemed as if she were just saying the crazy rumors she'd heard from her cousins. But London had always been civilized. I couldn't imagine that any of them were true. England is no backworld country."

"It wasn't," Andy said. "But you know how rapidly things have been changing."

Miranda grimaced. "Too much. It's been unreal since you left Andrea. Technological leaps and most magazine profits down. Not Runway, but they wouldn't listen. They wanted to whore out Runway. I had to fight for them. For my models. Promised unheard of profits, if they let me do it my way. The only way to keep the magazine was to become something I never thought I'd be."

It was an unexpected revelation and Andrea knew it meant that Miranda's focus must have been precariously threatened. "And did you?" She asked the question without judgment.

Rage colored Miranda's cheeks and she refused to look at Andrea. "It took doing. Only the willing. Only the highest prices. Only the best. I sent them to get educated. Overseas, before it all went bad. Someplace prestigious. Emily found it, somehow. They all came back... ready. Irv had nothing to complain about."

Andrea blinked rapidly and looked away. "It must have been difficult."

"It was business. I just stayed focused on what is always true about business. Be the best. Demand the best. Get results. To be the standard instead of merely setting the standard. In the back of every Runway issue we included what had to be included. Stylish, slick advertisement. Quality and discrete. Nothing..." a snarl formed a curl at the edge of Miranda's lips. "... gauche. If we were to do this, we would do it right. It took three years, but by then we were firmly established as a leader in a growing industry."

"Who made you do this, Miranda?"

The woman's words were ice. "Whom else? Irv Ravitz, of course. The erstwhile Chairman of the Board."

"Shit." Andrea grimaced. "And, of course, you couldn't quit. It would have left everyone vulnerable."

"And destroyed everything, everything we'd built."

"So you continued to run the magazine, as if nothing had changed. Yet everything had."

"Yes." Miranda looked as if she wished her hands were holding something or throttling someone. "And of course, where Runway led, others quickly followed. Once we established ourselves, I was finally able to oust the bastard. But by then, it was too late. We were in business and the profits, as promised, were rolling." She sighed. "The only saving grace is that they let me continue to do it my way. I had that much pull and it turns out that even the sex industry relies on fashion."

"Thus Fashion week. In London. God." Andrea could not stop the chide, "There are reasons for the state warnings, Miranda."

"We were aware. We had guards. Everywhere. We never went anywhere without them. Not I, or my girls or my people." She continued with her story. "After the shows, we were going to take in the sights. Roy was with us. We did not go out alone Andrea. We did not."

"I understand."

"They shot them all. They shot him." Miranda's hands were clenched in tight fists. "I watched as he fell. God, Andrea, Roy died right before my girls' eyes as he tried to shield them. Then, then we were grabbed. I remember, fighting. Hitting people. Then, it hurt. Everything hurt."

"Stun gun, most likely. Do you remember what happened next?"

"Dark places, long rides. The girls were with me. I thought... it was a kidnapping. I hoped for it. Then we were brought to a facility. Heard them laugh about the location and what it meant. They never quite said the name and I couldn't quite see the sign. They hit my girls, pushed us away from each other. They took them away... they took them..."

"Miranda," Andrea interrupted. "You may not be ready for the girls to see you. But perhaps... would you like to see them?" This was the part she dreaded. Miranda was very protective of her daughters. She had no doubt that the woman had fought like a tiger until she could not. The sight of her under-aged children in slave collars would be a trigger, of that Andrea was certain.

"What are you not telling me, Andrea." It was the first time the other woman had used her name and the brunette felt a rush of emotions. None of which were useful to the present moment. But one thing was apparent, Miranda could still read her. Andrea wasn't sure if that boded well.

"The only reason you are in my care, Miranda, is that your children were brought to me first."

Oh, she had Miranda's attention alright. That fierce gaze was amazing. "You must understand that I had only a few choices. I could buy them or not. The paperwork on yourself and your daughters are signed and sealed. Your bio-info is in the manifest and on state records."

"Are you telling me that you bought my children as though they were common slaves."

Even mechanical, Andy could feel the iciness of the accusation. However, she met her former boss' enraged gaze with calm intractability. "Yes, Miranda, that is exactly what I'm telling you. Would you rather they had been purchased by someone who did not know who they were and did not care about their age? At least with me, they are safe and secure. Would you rather the three of you had been split? Because I assure you, you were not slotted to be sold together. Tell me, Miranda, which would you have preferred?"

She might as well have been punching the other woman; each revelation was a blow. However, there was no easy way to offer the truth. "You were, as soon as they took you into that building, no longer your own agents. Your rights were stripped by procedure and paperwork. The only saving grace is that whoever did this to you, had no interest in enhancing your daughters." Miranda whimpered, but Andrea continued on. "However, another owner would have. You may be sure of it. Their enhancements would not have favored your daughters. Mine will."

The older woman's gaze snapped back at Andrea.

"They are slaves. Their documents will always mark them and it would be way too easy for some sleazebag to try to re-enslave them without certain advantages. I have to protect them. They will receive the same benefits as others who have found their way to me. Enhanced intelligence, enhanced skills of their choice and a bio-marker that shows that they are mine. They will only receive the good, Miranda. Just as you will. Understand?"

"I..." Grief colored Miranda's skin, her expression.

"I can try and find another owner for them, if you prefer."

"No!"

"Then you do understand." Andrea shook her head. "Quit being so stubborn. I am not your enemy."

"I know." The words were said quietly. "I understand."

Andrea thought it was time to bring the topic back around. "Can you think of anyone in particular who would have done this to you, Miranda?"

Ah. That did it. The older woman gave her a 'don't be stupid' look. How refreshing. "I can't imagine who would have done this to children, and I would love to be able to claim that everyone loves me, Andrea, but you know as well as I do, how much betrayal was in my previous industry. Just multiply it and you will know how many hate me now."

Ooh. And there was the zinger Andrea had been waiting for. A part of her wanted to leap on it, to grab it as an excuse to have it all out. The other part just sighed. "It was not by choice that I did not return. Your intelligence has been enhanced. Surely, you have surely figured that out by now."

Miranda, who had been winding up, crumpled. "I am..."

Andrea raised her hand. "Don't. It is unnecessary and there would have been no way for you to know. If you had, I am sure you would have tried to charge to my rescue."

"You believe that of me, even after ..."

"Miranda, I was hurt for my friend. I was confused for myself. But I soon learned how petty those worries were. Yes. I believe that of you. Do you believe it of me?"

The other woman's lip twitched into a semblance of a smile. "Belief has nothing to do with it. Apparently I am learning first hand."

Andrea's smile was also slight, but also there. "No doubt you will test all my restraint as well as my patience. However, you must be aware that there are limits to what I will allow even from you. For example, I will punish you if you are insolent, especially if there are witnesses." Miranda blinked at Andrea, whose expression remained serious and nonthreatening. She continued, "But we shall learn who you are now together. It is ... I assure you... not completely awful. Not now, any way."

"Andrea..."

"Miranda." She let the silence rest between them, then said, "I offered to let you see your daughters, but then distracted you with the details. I simply did not wish you to be caught off guard. I can offer you a display, or I can take you to a place where you can observe them in person. Would you like to see what lies outside of this room?"

"Yes." Miranda said firmly. "I would."

\- TDWP -

Andrea was fairly sure, if she remembered the subtle reactions of her ex-employer, that Miranda had been both pleasantly surprised and amazed at what was there to be discovered. Her compound was expansive, a place for business, pleasure and refuge. They took a route through the well kept and beautiful courtyard, heading on a diagonal towards the east court; the training grounds.

They took an uphill incline, walking into the corner building. It was a modern facility, sleek, white but not entirely pristine. Doors to offices, classrooms and bulletin boards held notices, cartoons, motivational posters. They walked past a library and Andrea smiled as she watched Miranda slow down to look in. "This is a school," the older woman remarked. It was odd hearing the voice come from the tiny speaker hooked onto her shift, but Andrea was getting used to it.

"Yes. We conduct intensive training here, for all sorts of occupations; sex trade, media creation, accounting, computing, so on. We have labs, are part of an educational consortium, but our training facility is specialized."

"That... is an interesting list, Andrea." Miranda gazed speculatively at the younger woman.

"It gets more so. As a member of my household staff, you have full liberty to investigate the options that capture your attention. I do not place limits on my people unless it is for their safety." She gave Miranda a sly glance, "Say, perhaps you might find publishing fascinating." She hid the smile at Miranda's reaction. 'Let her absorb that,' she thought.

They had arrived. "Ah. Here we are." Andrea began to slow. "Are you sure that you don't want them to see you?"

Miranda grimaced. "I am sure." She was worried and would not articulate it. So much had been stolen from her.

Andrea could imagine the concern. "Whoever did this to you wanted you to suffer. You will know your children. I can almost guarantee it."

Miranda shot her a glance of surprise, inhaling sharply at the insight. Then she nodded. "You have thought this through."

"From several angles." Andrea propped a door open and waved Miranda into a darkened room. "Observation room. All the classrooms have one adjacent." She pointed at a set of soft chairs that were positioned toward a blank screen. "Please, have a seat."

Miranda selected one toward the middle and Andrea moved toward a flat unit by the screen. She depressed a series of buttons, and the screen opened silently, revealing the interior of a small room with desks and a smart board. A tall, curvaceous woman was at the front, writing on the board, while the girls were at desks, looking studiously at terminal monitors.

Andrea watched as Miranda shifted forward in her seat. Her hands lay flat on the ledge that was part of the border of the screen. But what was most remarkable, was the relaxing of a terrible tension that was being carried. Andrea had to revise her understanding of Miranda's body language in that moment, as her ex-boss transformed from a woman in agony, to something much more... regal.

"And what do you have my children learning?" If it had been any other person saying that, Andrea might have taken offense, but the words were delivered mildly enough for Miranda. So she responded to the tone, rather than the words.

"Right now they are being tested to determine their current scholastic aptitude. We can't chance accessing their scholastic records." Miranda nodded.

"Practical," Miranda said, as if seeing her children finally allowed her to understand things more clearly. "Someone could be watching."

"Exactly. I have no interest in revealing you too soon." Andrea said. Then she shrugged. "I did send a note to your three most faithful at Runway. I told them to carry on, until they heard from you."

Miranda exhaled slowly and Andrea observed as what seemed to be another weight lift off. It was not quite as striking, in terms of body language shift, but was also palpable. Then the silver-haired woman indicated the classroom. "The woman in there. She is striking."

"Nicolette is one of our best instructors. Her husband was the one who sold her, for being too frumpy. She was upgraded. Not that it mattered to him by then." Miranda hissed and Andrea offered a grim smile, "You've surely seen the statistics. I assure you, the drop in divorce rate is not because people suddenly wanted to stay married."

"Is everyone here ..."

"No. Not everyone. But you'll soon figure out who is and isn't. When you have a chance, look in the mirror." Miranda looked at the younger woman with an arch expression. Andrea lay her fingertip under her own right lower eyelid and gently tugged down. "You'll see a blue dot somewhere on the inner lower eyelid. That's a bio-marker. There's also one behind the right ear. One holds the genetic template information about all the changes made to you. That's the inner eyelid. Most of us are under when that one is applied." Miranda only just barely hid the flinch. It occurred to the younger woman that she must hate hearing about Andrea's experience, but the brunette was not ready to evaluate why. She continued, "The other is reserved space for the owner's bio-mark. Stings like hell when applied. It's not necessary for it to hurt, just traditional." Andrea's attention turned to Carolyn and Cassidy. "I will make sure that the girls have some anesthesia for that one. Adults, however, must deal. Traditions have a certain importance and it is certainly memorable." Andrea returned her attention to Miranda. "And I don't want you to forget to whom you belong."

If the older woman was taken aback by that statement, she did an admirable job disguising it. Or maybe she never even heard it. After Andrea's small demonstration, she had returned to looking at her daughters, a grave expression on her noble features.


	2. Chapter 2

TDWP: The Devil's Mistress Ch. 2

They stayed for awhile, until it seemed to Andrea that Miranda was growing restless. "Are you tired?"

The older woman shook her head in the negative.

"Then perhaps you'd like to see some of what we do here?"

"Aside from buying old ladies and their offspring?"

Andrea inhaled at the sharpness behind the tone, but she refused to respond in kind. She was merely glad to see that Miranda had not lost all her spark. If she had, well... Andrea would have had to seek out the perpetrators and destroy them. Not that she did not intend to do so anyhow.

The brunette opened the door. "Come with me, Miranda and see the sights."

\- TDWP -

It had been a very long time since Miranda had been toured around a facility as extensive as Andrea's, but the experience was by no means a new one. However, the tour was a unique one. The brunette did not offer endless chatter describing every little detail. She said, early on, "You can access the basic information via your neural interface when you want to know more." Then she guided as they walked, drawing attention to features she thought Miranda might find interesting, but otherwise letting the older woman absorb the details on her own.

Miranda noted the immediate presence of a blonde, who followed them. At first she thought the woman might be a bodyguard, but she noted the professional attire, the tablet in her hand, the attentive expression that was constantly on her face. She even took notes of Andrea's comments. Otherwise, people flowed around them, busy at their occupations. Andrea watched them all with what appeared to be an easy gaze, but it was one that missed nothing.

A redhead passed them and Andrea said, "Lisle, please have Cassandra come see me immediately once we arrive at my office. I expect it will be in twenty minutes."

The blonde peeled off from them, long enough to chase after the other woman, but as Andrea continued on, Miranda followed her. Lisle found them, much farther ahead on the tour, but without apparent need to call ahead.

They finally made their way to an opulent office, walking past an empty assistants desk. Lisle took position there, while Andrea led Miranda into the workspace. The brunette indicated some soft seating. "Why don't you have a seat? Are you thirsty? Hungry?"

Miranda considered. "I could use something to drink, if you have it."

"Hard or soft?"

"Water will suffice."

Andrea stepped out for a moment and spoke to Lisle, then returned. "It will be a few moments, but you'll have a glass in your hands presently. I spy some paperwork on my desk, if you don't mind me taking a few seconds to address it?"

Miranda arched a brow. She was well aware that Andrea did not need her permission and was acting solely from ingrained courtesy. She might have been tempted to press, but was honestly too emotionally wrung out to play the game. Still, she wanted to see this, to see Andrea at work. She was curious.

The younger woman's grin was quick and oddly affectionate. And then, it was gone, and seriousness cast its mantle upon her. Andrea turned and focused on her work. Then, after a few moments, Lisle arrived, handed a glass of water to Miranda without comment, then approached the desk and whispered into Andrea's ear.

The brunette turned slightly, cupped the woman's face, and kissed her lightly. "Thank you." Lisle, then went back out to the assistant's desk.

Miranda, eyes narrowed, lifted her glass to drink. And was mildly surprised to find that the taste was familiar; her favorite.

Well.

She sipped and observed, knowing that Andrea was granting her this time to absorb and contemplate.

Then the redhead arrived. Cassandra. The young woman looked diffident, a change from the confident walk Miranda had perceived previously.

Andrea spoke without looking up. "626. State Feature 17 Status in your protocol."

The woman blushed furiously, but began without any hesitation. It was almost mechanical. "Feature 17; Status, On. Nympho - Enhanced; Modified level 5. Hours passed since last application: Seventy six. End."

Andrea finally looked at the woman. "By my count that is four more hours than our agreement. 626 is that correct? Reply."

"Correct."

"626 you are now on 24 hour leave. You will go to the discipline room and speak to Jason. He will apply 8 strikes with a paddle, which is 2 for every excess hour past your prescribed wait time. Have Jason assign three playmates and spend time with them. You will write me a report on why it is bad to ignore your protocol limits and have it delivered to my email in 48 hours. Come here and kiss me, and then go."

A series of emotions flickered across the redhead's gaze, but the one that had most impact was the look of relief upon her face. Cassandra's response was immediate. She crossed the empty space to where Andrea sat. The brunette turned and received a long, warm, and deep kiss. Then, without further comment from either of them, Cassandra left.

Andrea called Lisle in. "Please assign a therapist to Cassandra and see that a schedule of appointments is implemented for the next six weeks. She can't go on like this."

Both women's expressions reflected a stern concern. When Lisle exited, Andrea dropped the paperwork in her hands and pinched the bridge of her nose. She turned to Miranda and saw the questions in her eyes. "Cassandra, like you, was kidnapped and forced into her current situation. Her former boss wanted her for more than just her work ethic, and when she refused him, he made her fiancé an offer that he couldn't refuse. I purchased her at an auction when the man's assets were seized for fraud, embezzlement and tax evasion. If my own ordeal taught me anything, it was to recognize those that were not introduced to this life willingly."

Miranda's grip on her glass tightened, as did her expression. Andrea's gaze was piercing. "More, you can not ignore your protocols. You must know them. You must adjust for them and accommodate them. Or you will suffer. The suffering is part of the basic design, but not necessary for most to function. Ignore your protocols for too long, and there will be irreparable repercussions; mental dysfunctions, physical deterioration, death. None of which are mild, Miranda. I've seen slaves die painfully, blood from every orifice. Though, not often willingly. The protocols can be denied by command. It is... a terrible punishment to witness, but effective in setting an example to others." Her gaze turned hard and uncompromising. "I am well aware that you have the willpower to deny your protocols, but I warn you now, I will not allow it."

Miranda's features slid into a nearly impassive mask, but Andrea still caught the flash of disbelief. "4289. Utilizing your neural interface, state Feature 17 status in your protocol."

It was an automatic response, this time sounding even more mechanical as the words floated through the speakers. "Feature 17; Status, On. Slut - Enhanced; Modified level 7. Hours passed since last application: Seven. End." Miranda's features turned crimson.

Andrea leaned back in her chair. She ignored the flare of anger directed at her and said, "It is interesting to me that your previous owners," she used finger quotes, "... left their options open. The Slut setting gives a great deal of flexibility. It can be downgraded or upgraded by procedures and commands almost all the way to Nympho, depending preference. Perhaps they weren't sure what they wanted. Either that, or they were warned about the Nympho setting and did not think they could handle you."

Miranda looked startled, then barked a short laugh. Andrea smiled slightly and rested her hands comfortably on her armrests of her executive chair. "If it makes you feel better, my setting is currently Slut - Enhanced; Modified level 3. That's just two levels above the Slut - Wench setting. It means I have a high libido, a certain level of agree-ability, which is just a shorthand way of saying I am statistically more likely to say yes to an offer of sex, and I have a spiral of need, which rises the longer I ignore it and causes the agree-ability index to rise also. Wench by itself is the lowest on the scale. It's merely a libido enhancement. Very few of us who are female ever get that low a setting. Most owners opt for the Slut every time, partly because of the flexibility of the command set. Mostly because it's a damn fantasy thing."

Miranda's laugh this time was more of a sniff, but she knew. She understood. Andrea continued. "The enhanced option, tells us that there is more to the list; bio-toy options (some of which are implants, others of which are interfaces), pain options, that sort of thing. Those will be subcategories of Setting 17 and each of those will have their own settings. That tells me your so called owner is a kinky person or expected to have you perform a variety of sexual tasks; which means you will definitely need to meet with our physical therapists to line that all out and discover which toys are most compatible and what your tolerance levels really are. I will also schedule appointments with a counselor. Both of those are standard procedure, anyway, but I guarantee, you want professional assessment Miranda, even if you find it disconcerting. More, I don't want you suffering needlessly. I will have Lisle forward a list of acceptable and available playmates with compatible settings."

Miranda turned away, unable to look at Andrea at that moment. The younger woman decided to let the silence hold, knowing that her ex-boss had plenty to think and swear inside about. So she opted to focus on work, as much as Miranda's presence would allow, anyhow.

\- TDWP -

They were interrupted by a petite woman, sporting short spiky pink and blue hair. Her blue eyes sparkled with happiness and she might as well have been wearing a cheerleader outfit, given the enthusiasm she was exuding. As it was, she was stunningly youthful looking. Were it not for the fact that her breasts obviously belonged to an adult and her eyes held a maturity that spoke of decades rather than years, Miranda might have been tempted to think of her as a teenager. Miranda shifted, as she watched the way the woman uninhibitedly kissed Andrea. Then, as if she had the right, she slid into her employer's lap and brought the shoebox she was holding with her. The only saving grace was that she didn't bounce. Her voice, however, was perky enough to make up for it, "It's here! It's here!"

Andrea's hands slid comfortably around the woman's body. "That is good news Jay. Told you." That got her another steaming kiss. Andrea grinned. "So don't keep us waiting. Open it up!"

The small woman emitted a gleeful sound and popped the lid of the box off, then laid it to the side in one smooth, quick motion. She stared down into the box and then grinned even more, if that were possible. "Oh. Andy. It's beautiful."

"Show Miranda," Andrea said, with a slightly mischievous glimmer in her expression. "I like the colors."

The young woman twisted in Andrea's lap, but did not get off. Instead she lifted the item out of the box. It was a shape that had been around for ages, formed in what appeared to be clear crystal, with streamers of gold and a soft cerulean and shimmers of glitter. The woman smiled at Miranda as if she'd always known her, as if they'd even been properly introduced. She positioned the item, to demonstrate. "Attaches, just so. It'll buzz on command in the interface. I've been waiting for ages to get this back from the lab. They were supposed to have it done last week! But you know, parts and pieces... Ordering from distant lands. We really have to get us a company that just makes the chips, Andy. Then we could do even more specialization and get past the limitations of only being able to fine tune programming."

"It will be tuned for their owner, but will give their partners great pleasure too," Andrea said. She stroked the woman's hip, a pleased expression on her face. "Nice design Jay. I especially like that curve. It's gonna hit in all the right places."

The woman beamed. "Thanks, Andy! Yeah, I'd say, give us a chance to test it out and we can have the specs ready for the market in... two weeks."

"That long?"

Jay's grin turned positively wicked. "We are talking a thorough testing."

"One week, Jayden."

"I'd say you were no fun, but that would so be a lie. Okay boss. One week. Come help us try it out?"

Andrea gave it some serious thought. "Not this time."

"Rats." Jay slid off Andrea's lap and leaned in, pressing her whole body against her boss. Andrea's hands cupped the woman's buttocks and squeezed lightly as they kissed.

When they pulled apart Andrea offered a warm smile, "You are making me regret missing out."

"You know it. But next time, luv. Always a next time."

"I look forward to it. Now. Go. Do your job."

"I'm so buying you a t-shirt that says Best Boss. Any day now."

"I'd rather a mug. Out!"

Jay's laugh could be heard down the hallway as she exited.

Andrea could practically feel the frost in the air. She was a third of the way to being able to ignore it. She had turned back to her work, had started opening a new file.

"Do you sleep with all of them?"

Andrea smirked, but ignored the question in favor of an explanation. "When I found Jay, they had finished her upgrades and had just added features. It was... an impressive list. I remember looking at the file, thinking, what kind of owner would put someone through this, but there was no owner listed. When I asked the auctioneer who was selling this girl, he said, no one. She was selling herself. Her parents, you see, were not available. She had brothers and sisters to support, but was too young to get a legitimate job. The only way to keep them out of the foster system was for their grandparents to take them, but they had little income. Her idea was to attempt to provide for them. She tried other things first. Obviously. But... nothing pays like the slave trade. She went into debt as soon as she signed the first waiver. It was all in the hopes that she would find someone willing to pay. She did. I was not the first owner. Her first contract had completed and they were finished with her when she turned twenty. She had opted for a much, much longer contract for the second round. She wanted it to be her last round, you see. She was trembling so much when they brought her in for examination, I thought she would fall down and die on the spot. After all, it's a crap shoot, isn't it? I was not the only one bidding, but I was the last one standing." Andrea offered a grim smile. "I learned from the best how to always get what I want."

Miranda shivered.

"I do sleep with many of them. Not all. It's not practical, and I have staff. But while others think of ownership as a right, I think of it as a responsibility. As soon as my name is on those papers, I am the one who pays the taxes, must insure their care, must care. For if I don't, who will? It also serves the secondary purpose of attending to my own protocols. My people follow my example, so I try to set a good one. If it involves being more personal than one might see in other businesses, well, that's the nature of the beast. Can I do less than offer everything I am?"

"I don't know what to say, Andrea."

"I don't think there is any need to say anything, Miranda. What is, is. I'd say it's just business, but you know it's not. I know it's not. It's personal. It's very, very personal. And we either accept that, or..." Andrea shrugged. "I choose to be happy, you see. I choose it. And I make that choice for some of them and try to offer it to as many of them as will take it."

"Are you making that choice for me then?"

"Could I ever?"

"You tried in Paris."

"Yes. Well. We see where that got me." Andrea's smile took the sting out of her words. Then she waved her hand, "I suppose we'll have to leave that one up to time."

\- TDWP -

The morning passed eventfully. Miranda watched as people swept into and out of Andrea's office and often her arms. They attended an energetic meeting, one that bordered on chaotic, but somehow managed to end up quite profitable. The more she observed, the more intrigued she became. Andrea's management style appeared to be loose, but the older woman had come to the conclusion that it was more a case of iron fist in pillowed glove. Not velvet, for that would not have been soft enough, but Miranda was well aware that the fist was absolutely there.

Andrea used it, not necessarily harshly, but with a deft firmness that eventually started causing shivers down Miranda's spine. The woman she had thought of as the fat, smart girl once, was something new and fascinating and very, very stylish; almost orgasmically so. It wasn't just her clothing, which she wore well. Or the power, which practically rolled off of her in waves. It was more. It had always been more, she realized. And she was reminded of it, every time they went for their short perambulations. She had become aware of the sleek glide of Andrea's walk, the supple movements of her body which exuded warm sensuality.

She still recalled the day Andrea had stepped into her office in those Chanel boots. The start of that walk had been then, she thought. But Andrea had been her assistant and there were definite limits to what Miranda would allow herself to feel.

She was having a hard time setting those limits at the moment. One might even call it an impossible quest. Every time someone else slid into Andrea's arms, male or female, she felt a rush of pure sensation through her whole body, which inevitably, eventually concentrated in a flush warmth in her center. Unaccountable jealousy, envy, and want mixed precariously in her. She would catch Andrea watching her, and her skin would heat from the attention.

It wasn't until there was a lull in the activity that Miranda realized that not all of Andrea's motivations were clear. The brunette had paused, and looked at her, then looked again. Then she had tisked.

Miranda wasn't sure what she'd done to earn that particular sound. She had been very careful. She was cognizant of Andrea's warnings and had begun to take to heart each story that the younger woman would tell her. She had understood their purpose, both as instruction and warning not to judge before she understood. She was striving not to, but had years of habit ingrained in her. It was not so easy. Yet, the time with her ex-employee had helped.

Andrea had mentioned the choice she made to be happy, which led Miranda to the choice she felt she could make. She chose to act as if this were part of her job and she were there as who she had been, as if she were more than what circumstances made her; perhaps as an advisor of some sort. The acting had lent credibility to her posture and that had caused others to move around her with respect. She chose to act as if circumstances were moderately in her control and had arrived at the conclusion that it must be so, or at least, Andrea was allowing it.

"You're tired," the younger woman said as she stood up.

The older woman's first impulse was to deny it, but everything about the day had been about the delivery of truth, sometimes in painful measure. She was loathe to break the pattern and feared that her tongue might do damage to the fragile line of communication they seemed to be developing. She was highly aware that Andrea expected Miranda to sharpen her verbal sword, else why had she warned her. Indeed, there were times, she had been so tempted.

"It has been a long morning, and..." She was going to say she hadn't had any coffee. It had been days since she'd had a cup. She missed the flavor, was not sure why she had not missed the subtle high.

"Yes. I know. I've been selfish." Miranda blinked at Andrea, as the younger woman brushed a silver lock of hair away from her eyes. Her fingertips barely brushed her scalp and Miranda felt the tingle of them anyway. The younger woman smiled pensively. "I should have sent you to physical therapy hours ago, but I was... enjoying your company."

"I hardly did anything, Andrea."

"You say my name the way you do and your presence... I had forgotten how soothing..."

"Soothing!"

"Oh. Now I've offended you."

"No. Surprised me. As I recall, you trembled before me." Miranda's body shivered at the nearness of her owner. Yes. She must remember that was their relationship now. Yet somehow, there was more, had to be more.

"You were the queen of your world Miranda. Of course, I trembled. And you made me crazy. You made all of us crazy. But... I drew comfort from your strength. When you weren't slicing me apart that is..."

"I hardly drew the knives today." It was the closest admission that Miranda gave that she understood she was hard, was difficult to deal with. It had been part of the play, part of her role. Part of her.

She did not know if it still was.

"See. Soothing."

"You see the world very differently than I, Andrea."

"Mm." The hum was so close to her ear, as if the younger woman could not resist smelling her. So odd. Yet, Miranda wanted to take in the scent that tickled her senses too; there was something uniquely Andrea in the air. She was so close, that Miranda could feel tears gathering at the edge of her eyelids. She wanted her.

She had always wanted her.

"You either must touch me. Or you must stop. It is too hard for me right now." Blunt, but true. Fairness, between them.

"Oh." The word was a puff of air, a gasp of surprise. Miranda realized that the other woman hadn't realized how close she'd been. She felt a frisson up her spine and her eyes widened as Andrea's lips passed by her own without making the distance or connection.

Andrea stepped away and Miranda felt the loss much more deeply she could have explained. She was grateful, however, that the woman did not apologize. That too would have been too much.

"Lisle?" Andrea called, without taking her eyes off of Miranda.

"Yes, Andy?" her assistant replied pleasantly, suddenly available. How did the good ones do that? It was something Miranda had yet to fathom; only to appreciate.

"Have you set Miranda's appointments yet?"

"I have."

"Any today?"

"Just one. In about an hour."

"Take Miranda to the cafeteria and get her some food. Miranda, eat what Lisle sets before you. Your metabolism is higher now. Eat the damn carbs." Andrea stepped even farther away and Miranda felt a little breathless. The young woman sat down at her desk and looked at them both, then turned away to do something, anything. Miranda knew that activity well. Without looking at them again, the brunette said, "You may go."

And they did.

\- TDWP -

The cafeteria was a pleasant surprise. Industrialism had be sacrificed in favor of comfort and pleasure. It felt practically cosy, though it was a large space. The effect was mainly a decorative one, but also because of how the eating areas and the social areas were distributed. Miranda noted that there were rooms that broke off from the cafeteria space, perhaps conference lunch rooms, but a check of the schematics (a benefit of her interface that she was growing quickly appreciative of) indicated that some of those rooms had other, more intimate purposes.

Not that she lingered on the idea of it very long. Lisle found them a quiet, almost secluded place, and food was delivered fairly quickly. The portions were meaningful and the editor thought she surely wouldn't have been able to finish it all. As soon as she put the first forkful into her mouth, Miranda realized she'd actually needed the food, and the distance. The meal's warm solidity helped to quell the rising sense of displacement. Andrea's command was hardly necessary, as she ate everything on her plate without qualm. She had been, she now realized, quite hungry.

Lisle was a good hostess, providing a kind of bulwark of something tentatively familiar, yet being stranger enough to let Miranda's thoughts be her own. She was also very professional in her demeanor, giving away no sense at any time of impropriety; though she did once let her eyes glide over Miranda's form appreciatively. She even ate with Miranda, providing not only company for the dining experience, but also demonstrating the safety of it.

It wasn't until the plates were cleared that she even spoke. She said, "Is there anything else I can do for you?" The words themselves were not what colored Miranda's cheek, but the delivery of them. It took a few seconds for her to reply, because her first impulse was to say yes and that had taken Miranda aback.

"Thank you. But I believe you mentioned a previous engagement. Perhaps a restroom would be available? I would like to freshen up before the appointment."

Lisle smiled easily, apparently not put off or offended. "Of course. Let me show you the way."

\- TDWP -

Not too much later, Miranda found herself in another office; one papered with diplomas and certifications and decorated in wood and green tones. It was there that Lisle left her. "You're going to be in good hands. The best." Lisle had looked directly into Miranda's eyes while saying that. Her expression had been very serious. "They will take care of you. When you're done, just tag the interface and let me know."

"I shall." The young woman offered a beautiful smile, which was hard not to return. Miranda resisted the impulse to grab onto the young lady just because she was mildly familiar. However, doctor's offices, no matter how benign the individual, were not places she felt comfortable in and she could guess, if she had been able to read it without the neural interface, that everything in the paperwork on the walls said that she was about to be in the presence of a professional. Then she wondered if that were the purpose of the ostentation. Reassurance by proxy; a sort of, this person knows what they are doing, signal. She immediately wondered what their story might be. Now Andrea had her doing it.

Fortunately, Miranda did not have to wait long.

A strikingly beautiful redhead swept into the office, doctor's vestments covering classic fashion, clicking across the floor in black Manolo Blahnik Mary Janes. That was when awareness really hit, as Miranda became aware that she had been surrounded by people dressed as well as might be found in her own Runway. She, however, had spent the bulk of the day wearing a simple shift and no one had looked at her strangely or commented or caused her to feel out of place when she was at Andrea's side. No one had run their eyes over her with anything less than understanding.

"Well, aren't you the silver-fox, Miranda," the woman was saying. "Of course, you always were. And a simple rejuvenation does wonders, but you've had quite the set of upgrades, so, my god. You'll be knocking them dead in no time at all once we get you squared away. We'll be going over the whole of what been done to you in a bit and run a physical just to get your baseline. I have to mention that I love your magazine, but I'm guessing from the paperwork that someone has taken the fashion wars far too seriously. I look forward to seeing the payback."

It took a moment to process. "You know my work." The words rose through both her lapel pin and the speakers on the desk terminal.

The redhead did not seem to find the double speakers dissonant. She smiled easily and extended a hand. "Like many, I live vicariously and escape through the wonders of fashion. I may not be able to wear it all, but I surely enjoy looking." Miranda surprised herself, allowing the handshake to be a firm one. "I'm Dr. Addison Montgomery. I'll be your physician and overseeing your care for the time foreseeable. I've had a chance to look at a few files, and I convinced Andy to let me do some discrete digging for your other previous medical data, just in case. Much of it won't apply, but some will and we doctors like to have a full set of information to work with to begin with. We can be pretty sure that any data retrieved will be confidential as medical security is fairly stringent, but I've got our best hackers handling the details there. I had a chance to speak with your daughters, both lovely girls. You're an awesome mom. They love you loads. And I'm sorry about how you ended up here, but glad to have a chance to meet you." She finally let go of the older woman's hand and said, "I thought we might take a few minutes to get to know each other." She sat down across from the editor.

Miranda was slightly taken aback. "You've seen my daughters..."

"Andy thought you might like to know the same person was handling their care and this way I can keep you in the loop a little more easily. I need to let you know that in a few minutes, I'm going to be calling Andy and have her state a few commands to you. Nothing horrifying, just we want to get the full list of your features and upgrades. The paperwork is never complete. I did run a print off. Andy tells me the interface is active, if you'd like to take a peek."

"It seems redundant."

"It would be, I think. Once you hear it, you'll probably remember it all." Dr. Montgomery tapped the side of her head. "One of your upgrades is memory. You've got quite a storage capacity. The persons who did this to you seem to have had some very bad plans for you and wanted you to remember it all."

"I had come to that conclusion." Miranda decided to take the doctor at her word. "Are you ... have you... had similar experiences?"

The doctor shook her head. "Andy contacted me because one of her finds was pregnant and it wasn't an easy one. The woman wanted the baby, despite its... beginnings. She had heard that I was the best. The timing was right. I thought it might make a nice break. She flew me in, I saw what she was doing and told Andy that if she wanted me to stay, I wanted a full facility. She didn't even blink. Gave me the ticket and let me write it, and make the major staffing and management choices."

"I can see, Dr. Montgomery, how it might be hard to argue with that kind of incentive."

"Hard? Try impossible, although I might have resisted if Andy had been the one doing the asking. Oh, and call me Addison."

Miranda sensed the story there, and perhaps the real reason for the doctor's presence. It might be something to explore later. "You sound very busy, yet you have time for me?"

"Miranda Priestly, for you, I'd make time, even if I were still in the States." Addison smiled warmly and the smile was returned.


	3. Chapter 3

TDWP: The Devil's Mistress Ch. 3

Miranda did not see Andrea again that particular day, and that was probably to the good. The older woman had plenty to think about. By the end of her sessions with those professionals that Andrea had assigned to her, she was actually quite weary. It had been a long day, a long life. She entered her quarters feeling grateful for the privacy and wondered if that privacy was actually a unique experience for a person of her current condition. If so, then it spoke to kind consideration from Andrea, which Miranda did not take for granted.

She switched on the inner lights and stopped in the small foyer in astonishment. If she recalled correctly, which she knew she did because the memory came up instantly and briefly overlayed the current view, the room and been much more modestly apparelled when she and Andrea left it. She stepped further into the room, taking in the details and finding a surprising harmony with her personality. She felt suddenly free to investigate, an emotion that had been earlier missing, and so she wandered the space, peeking first into the small parlor, which now held fresh cut floral arrangements and the spacious bathroom, which sported recently warmed towels. The bedroom had more pillows, with absolutely luxurious sheets and covers. She ran her hand over coverlet, feeling the rich colors with her palm. It was a form of synesthesia, a trait that had always been her own and a secret weapon in her understanding of design. That extra-sensory modality had been increased, a side effect, she was sure of the rest of her changes. She was simply so glad, so very glad, not to have lost it and at least the color-touch remained so pleasurable for her.

She felt a hot sting of wetness press against her eyelids; fought against the re-emergence of tears. She had shed so many lately and she was already tired. Determined to continue her impromptu self tour, she opened the closet door. She wasn't sure what she had expected to find, she imagined that Andrea would eventually have thought to clothe her in something more than a shift, but the spread of choices before her was almost overwhelming. If she had been anyone else, it might have been. But she was the maven of fashion and this was her forte. She might be blown away by the gesture, but she felt comfortable with it too. She knew clothes and she knew she stared at a collection of clothing and accents that rang with awareness of who she was, including a simple, comfortable looking robe that hung on the inside of the door. She touched it, letting her fingers appreciate the texture and the restful charcoal grey.

She wanted a bath, suddenly craved one and needed it. With simple, quick motions she loosed the robe from its hook and strode towards the bathroom. In a few moments, the large tub was filling and she thought to take a moment to investigate the kitchen and eating space, if only to finish what she had started.

She almost wished she'd started there. A mysterious, gleaming contraption, a single cup coffee-espresso machine was on one counter, accompanied by a tree-like service with tiny ingredient cups and a tray of generous sized mugs. Her hand pressed to her chest and this time the sob was unavoidable and sweeping.

Andrea knew her so well.

\- TDWP -

The bath helped. Sleep helped more. She had thought that she might not be able to, but as soon as her head had touched the pillow, she had been gone to the world and all the problems in it. She had awakened feeling strangely calm and welcomed. Miranda checked on her daughters first, calling up their location on the vast wall screen in the sitting room. She had awakened before they had, it being still dark-thirty in the morning. The scene was dark, but she could hear them breathing, knew they were fine and in good care. Just that alone made things so much easier for her.

The coffee buzzed, quite fiercely and powerfully. If she'd been feeling groggy at all, that sensation had been beaten away by the sudden rise in pleasure and wakefulness. She realized she had plenty of energy, but her normal focal points were not available. She was also experiencing another, not at all hazy sensation, one that she honestly had not felt in such measure in a long time; or rather one not felt so abstractly and persistently.

She recognized it. Knew what it meant both as personal event and feature, but felt no obligation of hurry just yet. She had several reasons. One of them was simply that she wanted to savor the sensation, while it remained pleasurable. More, Dr. Addison had her slated for several fixes and adjustments which would reset this new type of biological clock anyway. From Miranda's point of view, it was only practical to see what her current limit was, anyhow. One just never knew what would come in handy.

Which brought her back to what to do with her time. The girls were asleep. She supposed she could see if Andrea was awake, but did not want to presume. Yet.

What Miranda needed most, she supposed, was information, which was something that Andrea apparently excelled at getting and providing. And she, the editor extraordinaire, had always had means and ways of acquiring what she needed. The means and methods might be different, but in this, they were definitely alike.

Miranda accessed the net, read the help files in a flash, and then operated the system. In a few short steps the wall display had several news sites running, all showing content based on particular search parameters; her own name. She listened and watched the cacophony, picking out threads of information to expand upon. One in particular stood out for her and she pulled it forward.

The chairman of the board was speaking into a set of mics, blinking at the bright lights shining in his face. He seemed, to her eyes, to be redder than normal. Despite the fact that he wasn't reading from a teleprompter or even cards, he seemed unable to maintain anyone's gaze for long. No doubt those who did not know him might think it was an aspect of grief, but she had known him for a long time. She knew what it meant. He was lying. She turned up the sound. She expected to hear something about how they were doing all they could to find them. What she heard instead was, "We are saddened by the loss our esteemed colleague and offer our condolences to Jeremy Priestly and his wife for the loss of their children."

If she'd had remote in her hand, she would have thrown it down. She wasn't a woman prone to swearing, but the words spilled out despite herself, echoing mechanically, "Irv Ravitz, you rat ..."

\- TDWP -

"... bastard!" Andrea seethed as she watched the news.

"Well, from a certain context it provides proof that he at least is in the know." Lisle commented. She was standing beside Andrea, arms folded. "The most they should be reporting is that Miranda is missing. It's very odd..."

"That they're reporting her as dead. Yes."

Irv Ravitz shifted on his feet, smiling in a bile-inducing way. "Due to the loss in the Runway family, one of our fine editors is returning to the fold. Jacqueline Follett is kindly stepping up to the plate for Runway America..."

"Shit." Andrea said. "Please tell me Miranda hasn't seen this yet."

"Surely she wouldn't be up this early."

Andrea gave Lisle a wide-eyed glare. "Hon, you don't know Miranda."

They were interrupted before their dialog could get much further. A knock on the door was the sole prelude before a tall, wide man stepped in.

"Derik. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"We got someone who needs your touch, boss. You've seen him once before and he's slacked again." Derik gave Andrea a brief rundown, which caused the brunette's displeasure with the day to increase.

"Where is he?" The big man cocked his thumb at the door.

"Bring him in. Contact Jason. Lisle, if you don't mind manning the desk in the meantime."

Lisle promptly did as Andrea requested, suddenly glad she wasn't going to be the one on the receiving end of that look.

Derik and another burly guard brought in a third person. He was shorter and wiry. He wouldn't quite meet her eyes, but she could see that he had been stubborn already as he opened his mouth to speak, most likely to justify his actions, or lack thereof. Sadly, speaking to his Mistress out of turn was just another offense.

She raised her hand, "Save me the details. I don't care. You know what is required of you and why. Let me remind you of the agreement you made..." Which she did. Then Andrea observed the stubborn expression and decided she had no time for it. "You have two choices. Do as I say because I say it or do it because I've enacted your protocol. One will be uncomfortable for you and I'll have Jason do your disciplining, but the other will be something you regret and remember for the rest of your life and I will be the one to see to it. You already know I will follow through. Oh, and I don't have to remind you what will happen if we must go through this a third time, do I?" The man shook his head. "So, your choice is?"

"Jason."

"Wise decision." Andrea's voice was cold and unyielding. "Jason will decide which privileges will be revoked and you will deal with it. You will be permitted forty-eight hours of recovery time and follow any medical advice given for said recovery, with no complaints."

\- TDWP -

Andrea was just about to excuse everyone when she heard the sound of a really familiar pace, click-clacking down her hallway. She heard a frantic and obviously dismayed Lisle cry out, "Wait. You can't go in there!"

Then Miranda swept into Andrea's office like a storm. She ignored the presence of the others, and was focused solely on the brunette. It was a kind of saving grace. Andrea wasn't entirely sure that the other woman had even noticed them, really. To Miranda's credit, her mechanical voice did not rise, but her words were rapid and practically as full of motion as she was. The fervor of her mission carried a near tone of command, with an expectation that her demands would be met. "I must get to Runway as soon as possible. I must have the Book. Irv and Jacqueline. It is unthinkable. You have no reason to keep me here now anyway, surely they can fix me elsewhere. Send me and the girls..."

Andrea snapped out, "4289. Be silent and still." Miranda paused mid motion, mouth closing as she settled into a standing position. "4289. Please observe your surroundings, then return to point."

The silver-haired woman's gaze took in the room, the people in it, the hapless fellow between two bodyguards who was suddenly gulping; not for himself, but for her. She blinked as her perusal continued, taking in the frantic arrival of the assistant, before she returned her attention to Andrea. That told her one important thing, point was always Andrea.

Lisle said, "It's partly my fault. I didn't get to the door fast enough."

Andrea raised her hand in a stopping motion. She said, quietly, "4289. You will move to the desk, turn around, bend over, spread your legs, and place both palms flat on the desk. Nod if you understand the meaning of the command. Then, follow through."

Miranda's eyes widened as she nodded. Then she pivoted around and promptly positioned herself, not merely as commanded, by as intended by the command.

"Lisle," Andrea's voice rose only enough to reach a hear-able speaking level and no more. "Please have everyone exit the office and lock the door behind you. I will call you if I need you."

Miranda did not have to look to see Lisle leaving. She heard it; heard the click of the door, the latch switching around. She could even hear Andrea breathing through her nose, long, deep even breaths that told her that the other woman was attempting to control her responses. It grew so quiet otherwise, that for a moment Miranda thought that this embarrassment might be all there was.

Then she heard a whistle of air and felt a stinging slap on her buttocks. And then another. And then another. Each one was hand delivered, with a solid slap of sound. Miranda could practically feel the impression of Andrea's palm as a form of heat and tingling zing.

"Miranda Priestly." Two more swats accompanied her name. The older woman drew hissing breaths, as quietly as she was able, in response. "I will not have you risking your life or breaking my people's discipline!"

Miranda felt her skirt being rolled up her legs and over her hips, revealing what was underneath; which was not much. "4289, I'm going to divest you of the panties, you will cooperate and retake your position."

In a few moments Miranda was wearing less than she had started with and right back where she had been.

"You did not have anyone sleep with you last night Miranda. 4289, You may reply to questions implied or otherwise, so long as they are directed at you by me."

"It didn't seem necessary."

"Lying to yourself is lying to me. Do not ever lie to me." The swats that followed snapped through the air and stung like they had been applied with more force; which, as her body pushed a little toward the desk, she realized they really had been. The shock literally took Miranda's breath away. "Now try again. Why didn't you have anyone sleep with you last night?"

"Aside from the fact it had already been a long day? I have never been a person prone to excessive personal contact and everyone here, except for yourself and my children, are strangers. I understand the necessity, I just... reject it."

This time, when she felt Andrea's hand, it was a smooth caress that slid across her backside. "Better." The touch ended and Miranda heard the soft sigh and exhaled one of her own. Her skirt was drawn back down and then a few seconds later, Andrea took her seat in front of her desk and scooted forward. She folded her hands on the desk, palms down, then rested her chin on her hands. "Rejecting it doesn't make it go away."

Miranda realized that Andrea had given her a great deal of latitude with her permissions. She used it to reply, "I am aware, but I was also using the opportunity to experiment and see what my limitations are."

Andrea scooted forward even more, lifting her head until was even with Miranda's and they were looking into each other's eyes. She placed her hands on Miranda's, palms on top, but not heavily so. "It's not like going without meals, though I see you thought of the comparison. I can't help but think there are other reasons, but I accept your answers as credible, if foolish. Dr. Addison wants to wait seventy-two hours. That's forever for someone with your features. I am doing my best to see that you have choice, but the longer you wait, the more your choices will be stripped from you. Not because I will it so, but because your programming will take over. More, if I have to intervene, I will do so in what I deem the most effective way and the first time you feel the rush won't be the pleasant thing it could be. If you wait that long, and I choose to be the one to take you on, just because I respect who you are and know what you mean by the term strangers, then I become the bad guy. If you wait that long, and I choose to have someone else do the honors, they will be my surrogate, and you will know it, and I will know it and I will still be the one who failed you and I might as well have done it anyway. Miranda, I can't do this. I cannot do this to you. So I am begging you. Don't put this off. Don't play games with the timing. Use a vibrator if you hate the idea of a stranger, but do something." Andrea's hands squeezed the older woman's gently.

"Now, about heading off to rescue Runway... I know you want to. I understand why. I also know you can't. Not yet. Until Dr. Addison corrects your general parameters, you are vulnerable. As soon as you walked into Runway, and if he is the one behind this like I assume we both are beginning to suspect, all Irv would have to do is state some general purpose slave commands and he'd have you. He'd have you Miranda. He might not have your exact number and your exact codes, but a lot of damage can be done with the basic commands while the options are still active. All he would have to say is, "Slave, sit"...

Miranda's palms slid out from Andrea's and she was abruptly on the ground, sitting. Andrea leaned over the desk. "... and you would be so screwed." The younger woman sighed. "I should leave you there, to make sure the point sticks. But I won't. 4289. Stand up, come over to my side of the desk and sit in my lap, as comfortably as you can."

Miranda soon found herself sliding onto Andrea's lap and into her arms. She expected to sit rigidly, but her body sunk into the contact almost as immediately as the younger woman put her arms around her. She even exhaled so deeply that it passed the notion of sigh and was an utter sound of contentment. And abruptly, she realized she was content. Then Andrea leaned her face against Miranda's head. The resulting epiphany was so brilliant her breath almost left her.

Andrea's hands did not roam. She simply held the silver-haired woman and asked, "Do you have any thing you want to say?"

"I couldn't find you. I looked everywhere. I had you blacklisted, so you would come crashing my gates like I knew you would, but you didn't. I hired detectives. They came back saying you must be dead and that there was nothing to find. I asked your friends. Threatened them, begged them. Then I talked with your parents. We were all... so lost without you. I finally accepted. I came to ... a form of understanding ... that I would never see you again. Never be able to tell you that I was wrong to say those things. I was pushing you away and pushing every button I knew how..." Miranda realized that her hand was tracing the upper curve of Andrea's breast, thought to stop it, but then realized she was comfortable... "You ought to call your parents. They miss you."

"I have tried. I just... how could I ever explain..."

"Maybe they would just want to see you and hold you. Be held by you." Miranda laid her hand fully on the roundness of Andrea's breast, cupping it, holding it, feeling the press of the younger woman's clothed nipple press against her palm. The crimson of her outfit buzzed in her hand, tickled it very pleasantly. "I realized, when I hired the detectives, that I wasn't searching for my ex-employee. I knew my motivations were far beyond that mere activity. But, honestly, while you were my assistant, I hadn't seen... hadn't understood ..." Miranda exhaled. "I want you Andrea Sachs, but I don't want you if it's because you have to. It's humiliating and awful to think that you would touch me only because you respect me. My pride... my pride won't allow it and I think... a part of me thinks I'd rather die."

"Except for the part that loves your girls."

"Yes. And I fear that's not enough." Miranda tilted her head back, so she could look into warm brown eyes.

"I didn't know Miranda. I thought... I thought you would never want to see me again. I left you."

"Yes. You did. And at a terrible point in time to do it. But I thought we would have seen each other again and I looked forward to reaming you a new one. At first."

"Sorry to disappoint you."

"As if you had a choice."

"Precisely. Are you okay about Runway?"

"No. But I understand why you won't send me to the lions den."

"Runway will still be there. You fixed it before. You can fix it again. And you have insiders..."

"Emily. Emily will be very much in danger."

"Shit. I'll have Lisle send some people. We'll squirrel her away if we have to. Serena too. I think... Nigel will be okay. It would look too suspicious for him to 'disappear' so soon after your apparent 'death', but him as well if necessary, although... I hate to take out our one possible link to the inside."

"Jacqueline knows I betrayed Nigel. He could play that up. But might need a hint. You posted them before, can you do it again?"

"Yes. I'll see to it. I wanted you too, Miranda. Before. Looking back, I think I wanted you from the beginning. Believe me, I wouldn't have taken that kind of abuse from anyone, which should have been my first clue. I still want you now. But... I am so aware of what I can do to you. There's no safe word. There's no off. It turns me on to know it, but it appalls me too. I make it sound like making love to you would be a chore, but I'd love to be the one to bring you to your heights and depths. But there's a thing... most of us are switch hitters now, but I have more power than most and sometimes, I act on that power. And monogamy... sweetheart... it's... I would love to be able to say there wouldn't be others in my bed, but I was tempered by a forge that bent and molded me to where I am now. I know how your husbands hurt you. And the thought of hurting you that way... that's why I keep stepping away and try to keep it as impersonal as possible..."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

"But it would be different, wouldn't it? I would know, from the outset and I have my own set of features to worry about. It would be different Andrea, with you and me. Neither of us really know how I would react now, other than habitually, and even then you can't predict everything, unless it's some feature I don't know about. Is there a prophecy feature implanted in you?"

Andrea chuckled. "No. Nothing like that." Quiet grew between them and settled for a few minutes. Finally Andrea said, quietly, "I know you're going to go your own speed on this. I will accept that to a point. 4289, reset communication and movement parameters." The older woman, who might have moments ago leaped from her lap like she was scorched, didn't move immediately. Andrea kissed Miranda lightly on the lips, the kind of kiss that told the other woman that her infraction had been forgiven. "You are going to have to remember yourself here in my domain, Miranda. I allow you a great deal of latitude, because of who you are to me, but I can not and will not permit you to undermine my authority here. Your personality is who you are, and I love who you are, but only when we are alone. Until this situation is straightened out, when in the presence of others, except maybe Lisle and Addison and others that we absolutely trust, you must remember that I am Mistress and you are Slave."

\- TDWP -

Miranda left Andrea's office more circumspectly than she had arrived. She took a moment to speak with Lisle. "I caused you an inconvenience. I do not normally apologize for anything I do, but I have cause to rethink my position." The fashion maven offered a bemused smile. "I would greatly appreciate it if you would forgive my hasty intrusion. I won't bore you with the details of why, but I recognize it was inappropriate."

Lisle considered and said, "Thank you, Miranda. Consider it water under the bridge. Is there anything I can do for you?"

The editor-displaced realized it was just a courtesy, but she'd had a thought, or two, which had developed from her time with Andrea. "Would you be able to set an appointment with Dr. Montgomery for me. I would like to speak with her. I expect it wouldn't be more than twenty minutes."

"I'll see what I can do."

\- TDWP -

Her visit with Addison did not take long, but was a profitable discussion. Miranda had made a few specific requests, which the redhead had been amenable to, as it folded well into the adjustments already planned. All she'd said was, "I'm glad you have been thinking about it, Miranda. I love it when my patients are part of the process. We want this to be a good fit for you. That's the whole point."

Miranda had simply smiled. "Indeed." Then she paused. "I do have a question. Where does one find the oft-suggested toys?"

Addison grinned. "It depends. Do you just want to supply or do you want to try the new stuff?"

"Ah. That is an interesting question you pose. Why don't you tell me about both options?"

\- TDWP -

"Miranda!" The perky not-really-a-cheerleader, smiled so warmly at the editor that the older woman had to smile back. "What brings you to my lab?" She lifted her goggles away from her face. They left impressions around the bridge of her nose and cheeks, which did not take away from her attractiveness at all.

"Oddly enough, Jayden, a request of sorts. Addison reminded me that you are an expert on sexual aids, a builder of experimental units and that you happened to know my... Mistress very well. Would that be correct?"

"Aye, that'd be correct, alright. What did you want to know?"

"In my previous life I was a woman of some wealth. I may yet be, as my lawyers are actually very good and despite the declarations of my death on TV, I doubt strongly that those tossing around the idea have any proof."

"You think you can pay me."

"I believe so. If nothing else, I can always ask my Mistress for assistance in the fiscal department until such time as I can procure the cash."

Jay raised her hand. "Don't bother. No cash needed." She leered slightly. "I take other forms of payment."

Miranda blinked. Then opened her mouth and then considered. Jayden's name was on the list, but the older woman wasn't sure if she were ready to confront things yet. "I do not know if I can, then. I am sorry to have bothered you."

"Whoa, wait. Hold on now. Didn't mean to scare you. I know what it was like. I remember. It's not so easy being us. You think I was this glorious being to start. Oh no. Our Andy, however, she works some miracles. So. You and I, we will say, perhaps and maybe. Or maybe we just settle for kisses and hugs. They say we only get our fullest fulfilment when we've had enough of those. Have you? Had enough of those?" Jayden was apparently fearless. Another place, another life, and Miranda would have turned right around and left the room. Here though, she was beginning to realize she had a certain amount of freedom from her previous life's necessities. She did not have to be the one in charge.

"I... The only people who hug me are my children." Then Miranda paused, "And my Mistress." It was getting easier and easier to say that with Jayden. The older woman had not had to with Dr. Montgomery, but she had known she would eventually have to do use the phrase. It was less painful than she had thought it would be. On the other hand, if it had been anyone except Andrea, the entire notion would have been utterly unacceptable and she would have fought tooth and nail; which said something...

"That's terrible. Hugs and kisses it is, plus the perhaps and maybes. You need some. You can call her Andy in my presence if you want."

"No. I really can't."

"Oh. Did that to you, did she?"

"Not quite. Almost. It's an agreement we seem to have made, for the sake of our natures. At one time our positions were quite reversed. I am much more dominant in my normal life. "

"Of course, you are. One can tell just by the way you walk, like you own the world. Which..." Jayden tapped her temple and turned for a moment, grabbing a pencil and then pacing to the drafting desk in her office. "You're probably not one for bright colors. Flesh tones. Unless you already have... " She turned and squinted at Miranda. "You got a note from Addie, by any chance? That will give me some information I need and avoid me asking questions bound to make you blush."

"Addie?" Miranda did not point out that she had been through so many indignities of late that one more seemed par for the course.

"Doc Addison. Dr. Montgomery. McDevil."

"McDevil?"

"Oh, get her to tell you the story of her time in Seattle. They called her that, among other things."

"She is a strong woman."

Her tone was so empathetic that Jayden asked, "What do they call you?"

"Ice Queen. Dragon Lady. Devil in Heels."

"Hah!" Jayden continued to sketch and note. "So, did she?"

"Yes. It's in a file?"

"Port it to my terminal and I'll pick it up in my interface."

Miranda checked her internal guides as to the how to, then followed Jayden's directive. In a few short seconds, the woman had access to the prurient details.

A few seconds later, Jayden was standing in front of her, pencil tucked in her hair and measuring tape in hand. " We are going to take what you already have and make it better. I'll be sending suggestions to the good doctor. Whoever did this to you... well, we shall make sure it benefits you, yes. I'm going to shut the door. Then you, my friend, must take your clothes off. Think of me as a very naughty tailor."

Miranda was amused to realize she did.

\- TDWP -


	4. Chapter 4

TDWP: The Devil's Mistress Ch. 4

Hugs and kisses led to perhaps and maybes.

Actually, it was one hug and one kiss. The kiss had started off as a simple compression of the lips. Jayden, as if this were simply her nature, had swiped Miranda's lips with her tongue as a parting gesture. It was like a switch being thrown. The next thing they both knew, the older woman had Jayden pinned to her desk, drawing those kisses deeper.

Miranda barely managed to pull back, eyes dark and startled. She was overwhelmed by sensation. "I beg your pardon. I am so..."

"Gracious, woman. Don't stop. What are you saving yourself for? Christmas? Andy won't go first. She won't because it's a hang up with her about having forced you to choose her or some such nonsense. Anyone who loves her, gets this about her. She wants you to choose her because it's a real choice, so she throws you at everyone in the world until she can accept that you come to her out of want. It's weird, but it's her. She won't be jealous. She might be envious. But she'll be more open to loving you and letting you in. Are you hearing me, Miranda?"

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Aside from the fact that I want to feel you in me? How about I love our Mistress and want her to be happy. How about, we all knew there was someone she was waiting for and thought she'd never have. Yet...here you impossibly are, and I see a chance to help make her a bit more whole."

"And if I want her to be ... first? Which, I will point out, is hardly a possibility. I am not a virgin by any stretch."

"Oh, I think in some ways you are, yes." Jayden glanced down meaningfully and then back up into those blue eyes. Then she narrowed her own gaze, "On the other hand, maybe it's perfect. Maybe of all of us, you should be the one to try. At least once. To see if she'll let the barriers down now. I can wait." Jayden grinned, lifted her hands and cupped Miranda's face. "I think." She kissed the older woman warmly. "If you are serious about this, set up a lunch. She's pretty good about keeping appointments, barring surprises. I'll talk with Lisle to insure it. If it doesn't work..."

"You will be the first to know and you may consider it a date." Miranda said firmly, choices made.

Miranda left Jayden's feeling much more like herself, if slightly more sultry than when she'd first gone in.

\- TDWP -

Miranda was surprisingly undismayed about her encounter with Jayden. She still managed to accomplish her main tasks, and had learned something new in the process. More, her fear that her own inhibitions might stand in the way had been summarily dismissed. Apparently inhibitions had nothing to do with how she may or may not respond. Thoughtfulness, on the other hand...

She had been given plenty of room think, to ponder, to ruminate. Jayden's kiss had merely been the spark on the pile of thought and other necessities that pushed and tugged at Miranda.

Besides, there had been other reasons, which had been with her a long time, that Miranda was not one prone to being overly touchy. Those reasons, among them her tactile synesthesia, were somewhat moot in this particular scenario. Socially, she was in a much freer environment, had no personal obligation to present a front of distance, and was not running a magazine. In fact, she had no particular responsibilities at the moment except to see to her own needs.

That realization was a revelation of sorts. One might call her current condition a vacation, were it not for the fact she was, by all accounts, enslaved. A part of her mused that she might not have put it past her ex-assistant to enforce a vacation mindset, simply because she thought Miranda needed it. It was more evidence in the an expanding list of "things that motivate Andrea," which the editor was building.

Motivation was a means of communication and right now Andrea had most of the cards, but Miranda might have more than she originally thought.

The silver-haired woman set those thoughts aside for a moment. She planned on speaking with Lisle soon, but she had one more task that she wished to complete first. She wanted to see how her children were faring. She checked their status in the net and then made her way to the educational side of the compound. This time there was a flurry of people of varying ages entering or exiting the building. Classes were in session.

She wondered if there was a map of Elias-Clark in the network. She knew the building as far as the important offices were concerned, but the fact that Andrea's facility was so thoroughly mapped indicated how modern her offices were. She realized there was an advantage to knowing and being able to tap into such information. Miranda tagged a mental note to pursue the question, and then followed the inner guide until she was near her children's classroom. Then, she chose the observation room.

Carolyn and Cassidy were seated next to each other, heads bowed they shared a textbook. Miranda counted five other children, not necessarily in the same age range, but apparently in similar learning ability. Their instructor moved around them, stopping to observe, assist or teach. She had a smile for each child, often getting on their level to communicate with them. Reassured that her children were being taken care of and treated well, Miranda watched for a little longer and then left.

She found it slightly amusing that her daughters actually had more work to do than she did. It made sense, however. School was a consistent presence in any child's life. It would provide useful normalcy. Miranda could appreciate the strategy of it. After all, the girls had been on vacation when the awful thing had happened.

She wondered who was holding them at night, if they were having nightmares. She wondered how they had managed to get so very lucky and felt, not for the first time since her arrival, a sense of good fortune. True, she might not have been spanked quite so... firmly... in her other life, but given druthers, she'd much rather Andrea have her than those nameless who intended such terrible things. Here, at least, she could see her children. It was possible that they might even know she was watching. They were sensitive that way, much like herself.

And, like herself, her children were imaginative and creative and all those wonderful things, but they had an under-girding of rationality which many their age lacked. They would be alright in the long run, but for now she wished she could be there for them. And she wondered if pride were all that was keeping her from them. She knew that they would not care that she had no voice, could not read what they brought to her, even though the neural interface had mostly mitigated that part of what had originally kept her from her children. She wondered if she would need to ask Andrea's permission to see them, if she ought to...

It was her fault that she even had to ask the question. It was her choice to bring her children overseas during these tumultuous times. It had been her choice to go sightseeing.

It was not pride keeping her from her children. It was shame. And anger.

Emotions that, as the adult, she had to manage and could manage, for their sake. She concluded that her children might appear to be doing well, but imagined that even as understanding as they might be, there was no substitute for seeing. For knowing. Had she not said so to Andrea?

She still had to ask first. It was a matter of showing she understood what had happened, had owned the why of it. Miranda added a tick to her mental lunch agenda. Ask about the children. Seduce Andrea. Both of them equally challenging, for different reasons.

\- TDWP -

Miranda checked the net, this time seeking Lisle. She was well aware that the blonde had a propensity to be anywhere that Andrea was, which was appropriate to her job. She was also aware that she did not necessarily wish to have Andrea overhear their conversation. Or, rather, if she did, that it be weighted in Miranda's favor that she should do so.

She wasn't sure whether to be glad or resigned that Lisle appeared to be at her desk. She put a small note in the system to let the blonde know she was on her way to ask yet another favor. Really, she was racking them up with that young lady. She wondered, and felt a brief flash of desire spark, if Lisle also considered hugs, kisses, perhaps and maybes sufficient collateral.

Though a bit surprising, the thought was not entirely random, nor was it one that she dismissed. She was beginning to understand that this was what she had been warned about. Right now, they were pleasant thoughts, hints of possibility which were springing up more often than she might be used to. In a few hours, they might be mental demands, one she might feel helpless against. She had read the pamphlets and the notes Dr. Montgomery had provided. She had visited the sites that were available locally.

What surprised her was not that she might have the feelings. What surprised her was the sense of not caring that she was having the feelings. How completely natural it all felt. The lack of alarm, the willingness to experiment. If the situation was truly as she suspected, she doubted that this was what her original 'programming' entailed. She knew, however, that her Andrea would not have allowed that. She would have found a way, or created a way if she had to, to circumnavigate the negative feelings that such thoughts and feelings would normally instigate. Instead, Miranda was distanced enough to, not necessarily trust the feelings, but to accept them.

It was an utterly different sensation than what she had become used to.

Towards the end, being with Stephen had become painful and jarring, made even worse with the way her mind processed her sense of touch. The memory had stayed with her, insulating her further from the world. She might air kiss at an event, but she had already started to avoid the smaller touches as being too traumatic and intrusive. Sitting on Andrea's lap had put Miranda in a completely different state of mind. It had not just been the command that had made her sink so completely into the embrace. Her synesthesia had contributed and one thing had been made very clear, Andrea felt good. Perhaps they had not been completely skin to skin, but there had been enough contact that she had been able to "read" that her owner, her Mistress, had meant what she was saying. And that had been much more soothing than Miranda had expected, to be so fully within Andrea's clasp.

She had been brought full circle, it seemed. Ironically, one might say her captors had done her several favors. Nothing mitigated the kidnapping, of course, and she could not be said to be kindly disposed toward them. But, she could admit that some good had come out of the experience.

Miranda arrived at the foyer leading to Andrea's office and slowed her pace. She was very mindful of her earlier entrance. Lisle had not issued any warning, so she felt somewhat sure that she was not going to be interrupting. She pushed the door open and glanced inside, spotting only Lisle at her desk.

"Do you have a moment?"

The blonde's smile was warm, welcoming. "Absolutely. Come on in Miranda. I've been waiting for you."

\- TDWP -

Lisle, it turned out, was quite amenable to many things, including penciling in Miranda's lunch request and means of repayment for favors done. Thus the editor found herself sitting on the edge of the assistant's desk and engaging in a very thorough, if leisurely kiss. A part of her mind assessed the notion that Andrea had been correct in her appraisal of her assistant as safe for Miranda. The other was enjoying the way the kiss was slowly intensifying. She only vaguely noticed the sound of heels moving toward them, and really, did not quite care.

"Lisle, I was wondering if you could check this number for me, it just doesn't ring ri..." Andrea's voice faltered to a halt, much like her steps.

Miranda, who had not instigated the kiss, was not inclined to stop it right that moment either. She let the blonde lead and intuit the natural pause. They parted slowly, breathing not quite even, but not overly heavy. Lisle said, "That was lovely, thank you Miranda." Then she turned her attention to her employer, her expression turning businesslike in a flash. "Of course, Andy." She stepped away to take papers from the brunette's hands.

Miranda allowed her attention, still heavy-lidded, to turn toward Andrea. She wasn't sure what she was expecting to see; shock perhaps or anger. Instead she caught the flicker of many things; want, fluster and more than a hint of enjoyment. Passion. Andrea's gaze was taking in Miranda's just kissed appearance and making something more of it, embellishing behind her eyes.

She had liked seeing the kiss. How unexpected. Miranda's blue eyes glinted as she took in the fine flush of color gracing the brunette's skin and she allowed her gaze to roam, with just a hint of predator behind it. "Andrea," she drawled, feeling the power of the name on her tongue. "I've made an appointment with you. I do hope you keep it."

She slid off the desk and approached Lisle. Patting the blonde's rear once and gently, "I shall speak with you again."

Lisle grinned, not at all phased. She winked, "I look forward to it."

Then, her blood full of fire, Miranda sauntered past the stunned Andrea without looking back.

When the door to the foyer clicked closed, Lisle said, completely unperturbed and as she perused the papers Andrea had given her, "Lunch is at one."

\- TDWP -

Having made the invitation, Miranda spent the rest of the morning preparing. She had originally intended to visit other departments and get to know Andrea's facility better, but decided that her current endeavor was much more important. Though, in a way, she found the effort took her to several locations anyhow. By the time she was done, she had a good working idea of the layout of the facility and a lunch that she expected would be quite enjoyable.

It was then a matter of presentation, something she excelled at. She had learned long ago that she could let anxiety sap her strength, or she could utilize it. By the appointed time, everything was as ready as she could make it and then some. She was only a tiny bit nervous and that related not to the lunch or her person, but rather to her intentions.

She wondered, very briefly, if Andrea would find a reason to be late or even absent.

The chime rang three minutes before the hour. Miranda smiled. Some habits, she knew, stayed with one.

She looked at herself in the mirror, just for a quick once over, then put on her most neutral expression. It would not do to appear to be too excited.

"Andrea," she greeted her guest. "Please come in."

The brunette stepped in, lightly cautious, but curious all the same. "Thank you, Miranda. I hope you don't mind if I cut to the question?"

Miranda quirked a brow, and walked further into the abode, toward the dining area. "If you must," she answered. "Lunch awaits, however, and you might as well wait until we are at least seated. After all, your time is valuable."

Andrea found it difficult to argue with the logic and so she followed Miranda, who in an uncharacteristic act, held the younger woman's seat. "I have an abundant supply of coffee and tea to offer, but no spirits. Would you like either? Or water?"

"Tea, please? Green."

Andrea spent a few seconds watching Miranda putter, then looked down at her plate. It was covered. She touched the metal surface and found it warm to the touch. "Why did you invite me to lunch?"

"Because I wanted your company, had need to ask you one or two things, and wanted to do it on a friendly level. Also, it provides a nice context for speaking with one another. Shall I provide another reason?"

Andrea blinked, considered. "No. Thank you."

Miranda set a cup beside her plate and then, coffee in hand, took her own seat. "I hope you enjoy the meal. If you would like to start?"

"Oh. Right." Andrea lifted the lid and set it aside, then gazed in appreciation at her food. "It looks lovely."

"Thank you." Miranda waited patiently, expression mild, and sipped her coffee.

Andrea took a bite, hummed appreciatively and closed her eyes. "Oh. This is very good."

"I'm glad it pleases you."

The brunette widened her eyes, but Miranda, by then was apparently focused on her own lunch. "I have been rethinking my position on my daughters. I hope you don't mind me asking, but I was wondering if it might be possible to see them on a more personal level than the display screen? I will understand if you say no."

"I will not ever, ever keep you from your children Miranda. They are yours." Andrea paused, looking slightly startled, "and mine. Would you like them to move in with you?"

Miranda had already strongly considered the option, but it depended on a few factors. "Where are they residing now?"

Andrea said the words very carefully, "With me." She clarified, "At my place. I have a lot of space and I just thought they could do with being near someone they knew."

Miranda replied, just as carefully. "I am very glad to know that they are in your care. I had been worried that they might be ... too alone. What they went through, what they saw, it was very scary for them."

"And for you."

"Yes. You were right to allow me time to process it. I'm still doing so, but am ... if not at a reasonable place... better able to cope. I appreciate your patience with me. I can not imagine what you thought when you realized how terribly I had failed them."

Miranda had not intended to cry, had not intended the sudden ache that threatened to consume her whole. She set her utensils aside. "If you will excuse me, please?"

"Miranda," Andrea stood up as she did, and clasped the other woman by the arm. "It's not your fault that you were kidnapped. I know... how I made it sound, but... it was an act of opportunity. An opportunity that someone was apparently already in the position to take advantage of. The people who masterminded this plot did so with every intention of following through, and they simply chose one moment out of many. It could have happened at any time, and almost anywhere. Even back ho... in the States. You can feel it, but you don't have to carry this blame, this guilt."

"I'm afraid, if you don't let go of my arm, I shall do something uncouth like wipe my other arm across my eyes. I need a moment to compose myself. It was not my intention to burden you with my feelings. I promise I shall return."

Instead of letting go of the older woman's arm, Andrea drew her closer, and liberated a napkin from a holder. The silver-haired woman wouldn't quite look at her, but did not say anything as the brunette made a few gentle swipes along her cheeks and under her eyes. They were standing very close. "Burden me," Andrea said gently, with a quality of empathy in her gaze, which Miranda had almost long ago forgotten. "Tell me where it hurts, when it hurts. I want to know how you feel. I always..."

Her tears weren't forgotten, not at all, but full lips were much too close to ignore. Miranda's free arm wrapped around Andrea's supple waist, then her mouth found the younger woman's. The kiss, though salted, was full and sweet.

Miranda deliberately, carefully disengaged the kiss. Andrea's eyes were closed, her expression a mixture of serene and passion. "I was going to wait until after lunch. I planned on having to convince you to kiss me."

Andrea leaned against the other woman, whose arm still wrapped around her. "I planned on being difficult."

"Naturally. I had heard you were challenging. I was looking forward to the convincing, but I'm not sure I'm up for games. Or rather, not the emotional ones. I... have played so many in my time." Andrea freed Miranda's arm and held her close. "Stay with me? Or, at least, if you don't wish to finish lunch, come sit with me in the parlor? Or..."

"Shh. Miranda. Lunch can keep. Or we can order more. Do you really want to sit?"

"No. I'd rather lay down."

"Your room then?"

"If you don't find the invitation too forward. Right now... I just want to be held and if it should lead to... well... I would like to be with you that way too. If not, immediately." Miranda looked up into warm brown eyes. "I would have wanted that anyway. If you had come home, I would have pursued you. Just so you know."

Andrea kissed Miranda's forehead and stepped back, taking one of Miranda's hands in her own. "Show me your room?"

\- TDWP -

Miranda's arms wrapped around Andrea from the back, under and over. She pulled her tight, hip to hip, breast to back. She had been serious about holding the younger woman; needed the solid experience of the other person. She had thought the younger woman was dead, after all. Gone forever. The recent days had been filled with shock after shock, personal and delirious and amazing. They were catching up with Miranda and she wasn't sure she wanted those umber-brown eyes seeing how much. So, they spooned together, and Andrea allowed it; perhaps understanding why. Miranda may have pushed buttons on that far day, but she had also been a little correct. They had their likenesses; social enough to pass, but the need for privacy too.

Andrea smelled good, lightly perfumed, but not overwhelmingly so. Just enough. Just right to lean into. Her dark tresses with the sparest hint of russet, spread silkily on the pillow and part of Miranda's upper arm. The older woman rubbed her face against it, feeling the texture and color slide sensually against her cheek.

They had never had this. This intimacy had never been possible when they were employer and employee. It was not something Miranda would have pursued or even allowed herself to imagine. It wasn't until after Andrea went missing that she realized how sharply her feelings had grown and matured.

Miranda was afraid her grip was too tight, and yet it tightened further, as if she could somehow meld Andrea into her, soak up the contact between them. They were not yet skin to skin, but there was enough where their legs touched and the rest of them touched. It made Miranda's senses sing, tightened her throat so sounds could not escape even if she wanted them to.

She pressed her lips against Andrea's neck, softly. The brunette clasped one of Miranda's hands in her own, squeezed it lightly and sighed. The older woman closed her eyes, let the rest of her senses cope for a while.

"Miranda?"

"Yes?"

"Touch me."

"Is that an order?" Amusement glazed the words, softened them.

"Do you want it to be?" Andrea offered the oh-so-careful query.

"Some other time, if not today. I could trust you, I think. I'm ... I... have mixed emotions about where you and I stand as Slave and Mistress. As a game once played, there was liberation, but I could always stop it. Except once. And even then... I question my motivations."

"I'm turning around."

Miranda did not reply, but drew back enough to let the other woman maneuver, until they were looking at each other.

"Who hurt you?"

"Andrea, everyone and everything hurts me sometimes. The Book has often daily scoured my senses with travesty."

The younger woman laid her hand on Miranda's hip and let it slide down to caress. "You are avoiding the question."

"Spank me if you must, but some things are very private. As you well know. But if you must have a time, think of the day on the stairwell, when you first made your delivery."

"You were ... terrible to me after."

"Yes. I was terrible to everyone, as I recall, but you especially." Miranda's eyes seemed to glow, blue and fervent. "But you rose to the occasion, didn't you? Broke the rules and created a miracle."

"I'd say you were still avoiding the question, but you answered. You just haven't... answered what I really want to know."

"No. I won't tell you. I certainly lived and it wasn't the worst thing in my life. Then again. I have a new measuring stick, haven't I? But, I will say this to you. It was my choice. I gave the option to him one time, because I had to try, didn't I? But I knew even then, it wasn't enough and nothing between I and Stephen would ever be the same. Some things require trust and ours was frankly broken."

Andrea's voice ached for the other woman, "Miranda..."

Because she could not bear that look, Miranda kissed her. She took Andrea's face between her palms and claimed those beautiful lips for herself. Urgency and desire flavored the kiss, extended it. She only drew back when breathless and even then, reluctantly. "I want this. I want you. And need you. Not because of any stupid hormonal drive or design feature, though I accept it may be pushing my agenda. But I knew that if I ever saw you again, I would pursue you. It... might have taken longer, but you would have been mine."

"You'd have," Andrea breathed, smiling wistfully, "... given me some haughty, blank look and I'd have smiled like a doofus to get it. Back then."

"I'd have given you a whole twenty-four hours to come find me before I'd figure some way..."

"... to spin my world."

"Yes." Miranda groaned as Andrea shifted, until her thigh was between the older woman's legs. "If it affects your decision, should you say no, I have a date planned with Jayden. I just want you to know I've taken your lectures to heart."

Andrea searched Miranda's face. Then said, with wonder. "You have, haven't you?" Then, she asked with tumbling haste, "Would you keep it if I said yes?"

Miranda tilted her head and stared into Andrea's eyes. "I don't know. I'm not sure I thought about that at all. I assumed an either-or. Would it... I don't even know how to phrase the question, Andrea. I have no social norm for this. But I can say... the idea of you being excited about it, excites me. For some reason."

Andrea licked her lips. "Would it excite you to see me with Lisle?"

Miranda felt a flush rush through her and was taken aback. "Apparently so."

The younger woman chuckled throatily. "Then you have the answer."

"Well." Miranda replied. She slid her hand along thigh, then hip, and then waist. "I'm going to undress you know, unless you have an objection?"

"No. Please do." Andy grinned. "I'll even help."

"So long as you do not hinder."

\- TDWP -


	5. Chapter 5

TDWP: The Devil's Mistress Ch. 5

Miranda's hand sculpted around Andrea's front. She began to liberate the buttons of the younger woman's blouse, punctuating each release with kisses in random places on Andrea's neck, shoulders and points revealed. Not that she let those touches be mere lip contact. She nibbled, licked, applied suction...

The blouse was withdrawn over long, limber arms and then finally off. Miranda then worked the bra off. Years of practice disrobing models made her movement easy, expert. Fingertips encountered delicate pink, then sweet rose, as the younger woman's full, luscious breasts were freed from their bondage.

The older woman paused there, concentrated on the difference of texture and color and feel. She couldn't resist, had to know, and bent her head to mouth the puckered, aching surface of her lover's breasts. She laved the burgeoning tips, those urgent points, with her tongue and swirled the sense of color into her mouth. Groaned with how beautiful it felt, how it satiated some deep need she hadn't allowed herself to feel. It was honey and rainbows and very occupying. She could stay there forever, she thought, moving from breast to breast; Andrea's sweet moans a counterpoint that went straight to her loins, building a fine wet heat there.

It took Miranda a moment to recognize something odd about the experience, beyond even what she was sensing and knew was her own unique way of perceiving. She had been so lost in curling her tongue around the circle and peak, soaking up the taste. It wasn't until she realized she was literally curling her tongue...

She pulled back, breathless, slightly weirded, and stuck her tongue out. It waved at her, or rather, she waved it at herself, but...she could see it quite clearly. It was long and twined and wiggled and not at all as she remembered. It was new. That forced the older woman to pause in a true double-take.

"This," Miranda exclaimed sharply, "was not in the medical review." She sounded offended, perhaps was.

Andrea opened her eyes, which had been hazed closed with pleasure, and saw the consternation on her lover's face, which was shading quickly to the appalled. She had seconds, she realized, to act; to show. "It's okay, Miranda. Look." She extended her own tongue, which also was longer and more facile than any the other woman had seen. "It's normal for us. Normal."

"I...Andrea."

"No one thought to tell you, because it's so ubiquitous among us. It's one of those... It's like handed-ness. It just is. Consider why we are what we are. It makes sense. And it's... very useful."

"Useful! Am I to go about lifting my coffee cup with it then? Why would anyone..."

"Remember what a good time you were having before you noticed?"

Miranda paused. Then as if it were an experiment, rather than an act of pleasure, leaned in and snaked her tongue around her lover's hard, sweet nipples. She hissed erotically, despite being slightly peeved at yet another arbitrary change. Then she drew back once more, appreciating her lover's willingness to give her this moment. "I suppose more surprises are ahead. This would be a perk then?"

Andrea smiled and lifted her hand to cup Miranda's face, "I think so." Her fingertips caressed the other woman's cheek. "It gets better." Miranda arched a brow. "No. Really. It does. You'll see."

"I suppose I shall just choose to believe you, until such time as I do."

"That would be good, my Miranda."

"You're not going to start calling me Baby or something not... me...if we ..."

Andrea laughed. "No. Never Baby, as..." This time Andrea let her gaze traveled the full length of her lover with a great deal of admiration, "... you most certainly aren't. And, I can't see you as my pet. Though I do have them. Just so we're clear."

"Not even in question. I promise to care for them as my own, should you define that as one of my responsibilities." As if they were moving of their own volition, Miranda's hands unzipped Andrea's skirt, then began sliding it off. She finished what she was saying with a teasing twist to her lips, not even on the edge of disparaging, just rueful application. "...Mistress, mine."

The younger woman shimmied, eyes alight with amusement, wonder and desire. She leaned forward impulsively, was met with a mouth slightly open. Their tongues twined and slid, brushing together, dancing intimately. By the time the kiss was done, Andrea was fully disrobed and they were both making inarticulate cries of pleasure. Miranda shivered away, reluctant, but needing breath and space to consider her next need. "Perk indeed," she panted.

Miranda swiftly disrobed, not intending to keep Andrea from the privilege, but she wasn't aware of how fast she moved. It had not blessed her consciousness how very quick and strong she was now. She was distracted. Andrea helped her stay that way, pulling her back until they were pressed against each other again.

Skin.

Miranda literally shivered with delight at the full impact and imprint of Andrea's skin upon her own. "My god."

"Miranda?"

The woman's eyes were closed and she allowed her full length to brush up and away, before she opened them. "You feel..." She hissed through her teeth and straddled, without sitting on, the surprised Andrea. She lay her hands, palm and fingers out and drew them down, from shoulders to breasts to side, to belly, but not all the way down. Not yet. She lifted one of Andrea's arms and slid her palm along its length, until she was touching palm to palm. The pressure was firm, incredibly tactile. "Oh, Andrea. So... very..."

Andrea had seen desire before. She had seen want. She had seen people in the throes of their features, caught up in a driven passion. She had no words for what she was seeing now, only a sense of awe and mystery; of something nigh unto portentous and it was utterly sensual. Miranda's expression was so completely different from what Andrea knew. It wasn't sly or amused or placating or practiced. It wasn't gleeful. It wasn't mere joy. It was ecstatic, in an almost holy sense of the word. It was pristine in its beauty; breathtaking.

Andrea wondered if this were her expression now, what would orgasm look like? "Miranda?"

Miranda let Andrea's arm drop carefully, swooped in for a kiss that made the previous incarnations seem like small fires compared to a forest blaze. She knelt, hands and knees over the brunette, hummed into the kiss that slid from lips to jawline. "I can taste you," Miranda whispered, "Feel you." One hand slid across the young woman's supple body. "It's... do you you really want an explanation now, Andrea?"

The younger woman was lost in swirl of sensation. "What?" She opened her eyes to stare into blue eyes that blazed with awareness.

"You were asking what this was. I could feel you. Asking."

Andrea blinked, processed what Miranda was almost telling her, though she was severely compromised by the her concentration being on other, more important things. She decided. "Later. This now." She leaned up and grabbed a kiss from her lover. "That later. But I want to know. I need to know, Miranda. This is not a usual thing."

Miranda grimaced, "It never was."

Andrea accepted the comment in silence and surrendered to the heat that Miranda was stirring in her.

The older woman began her earnest exploration again, seemingly endlessly hungry for the connection. She moved slowly down Andrea's body, focusing attention on what seemed like every inch of her. Her breasts were teased again and then Miranda flowed downward, following the line of her abdomen. Her tongue circled the belly button, dipped and slid in teasing motion. She crawled back. Fingernails raked along Andrea's side and thighs, but it was punctuated by pauses where the pad of Miranda's fingertips would trace back up, following delicate, nearly invisible red lines in an exact path. It was as if she were making and following a map, creating one of Andrea's body.

Memorizing it.

Learning it.

Andrea arched and swayed and moved and Miranda absorbed that, reflected it in touches that were even more erotic. "What are you doing to me?"

"Loving you?" Miranda whispered against her skin. "Drinking you up." She slid her cheek along Andrea's belly, "Feeling you."

"I want to feel you, Miranda. I ache for you."

"Yes. And I for you, but... Andrea. It's so beautiful. You're so beautiful." Her lips touched just below Andrea's navel, flowed down and paused at the hint of brown curls

"What's this?" It wasn't really a question that needed an answer. Miranda knew. She had one of her own. She hadn't expected to see it on Andrea.

'This' consisted of a circular space at the top, with a line that broke through the center and went down. The line was actually a seam, a fold. The circular space looked like a tattoo, given the tiny marks that made up it's surface, but it was really a biological interface. The fold hid another "feature," one, which Jayden had told Miranda was a shockingly common addition for female slaves. That she had both, spoke to either an indecisive owner or one who intended to do many things to and with Miranda.

"Touch it," Andrea commanded softly. "Please. You won't hurt me."

Miranda looked up at brown eyes, then down at the mark. She touched it softly, two fingers stroking the indentation of the circle and seam. She followed the line down all the way, through brown curls and drew in another deep breath of pleasure. Her eyes closed, as she drifted there, just touching those curls, experiencing the soft wetness of them.

"The way you look..." Andrea said. "It's as if you're having a religious experience."

"Mmm." Miranda nodded. "Perhaps I am." She moved so she could focus, brought her lips over the circle and blew softly at it. Andrea's hips lifted and tempted the other woman too much. She kissed the bio-input, reverently, then drifted that kiss along the seam and down and down. She paused and licked her lips, tasting the wetness that was already there.

She pressed forward then, carefully spreading the tender spaces of Andrea's sex, revealing the rich color there. Miranda's teeth pressed into her own lower lip as she gazed, taking only a few moments to appreciate the fullness. Her lover was wet, and waiting and she had anticipated this moment in her dreams for a long time.

She drew her tongue along the silky walls and surrendered to that want, that need. She forgot where she was, the situation that had brought her here, everything except that she was tasting Andrea. Her tongue captured and rolled the hooded ruby, causing the brunette to arch and cry out. Her lips followed, kissing where she played, suckling. She entered her lover, drove her tongue in, felt the singing of deep, nearly purple reds, along its length. She let her tongue slide in and out and over inner hidden ridges. Her hands, of their own volition, moved, grasping Andrea's hips to drag her forward, closer, tightly to her.

The younger woman bucked, pushed against the tender assault. One hand wrapped in Miranda's hair, gripping it tightly. The older woman only felt it in the sense that it was Andrea's hand touching her. The pain it might have brought another was merely a delicious addition to the pleasurable sensations already bombarding her senses. She was lost in Andrea, ravishing her with her tongue and being thrilled to the core by all the feelings that rushed through her.

Andrea felt the spiral heat through her blood, lift her to where Miranda was taking her in a heady rush. Her chanted her lover's name, wrapped her legs around the other woman's back to lock her tightly where she needed her most.

It was everything and just one thing, and suddenly she was catapulted, literally screaming with orgasmic rapture.

Then it happened again.

And again.

Andrea rode wave after wave of bliss until she saw stars.

She wasn't sure how Miranda had known to stop. Certainly words were far past her ability to even begin to articulate. The older woman drew back gently, not out of the powerful hold where Andrea contained her, but just in the way she was touching. She softened the kisses, made soothing strokes, until the younger woman was able to release her grip.

Miranda's eyes were closed, as she slowly sipped where before she drank deeply, when Andrea finally opened her eyes.

Andrea strove to catch her breath, until she was finally able to utter. "Miranda." The word was a whisper. But it was enough.

The silver-haired woman opened her eyes to look at Andrea. The younger woman had expected a certain smugness in Miranda's gaze as she answered the call, but she couldn't find any. The other woman seemed to draw back from what she was doing very reluctantly. It was as if she could have done that forever.

The expression on her face changed what Andrea was going to say, changed everything in some ways. "Are you okay?"

Miranda blinked at her, eyes dark. Her hands still held Andrea at the hips. She looked down, licked her lips.

"No. Miranda. Stay. Here."

The other woman cocked her head, as if processing the words. Andrea didn't know if she should be glad she saw resistance or terrified. Instead, she opened her arms, in an embracing motion. "Please."

She didn't have to interpret. Miranda slid into her arms, melding her body to Andrea's, but leaning in for a kiss which caused shivers of aftershock to roll through the woman.

The brunette clasped Miranda's face, guiding the kiss away from the fire, but only barely.

It was enough though, so that when the kiss ended, there was a natural pause. Andrea drew a shaky hand through silver strands. "Miranda," she whispered. She wanted to ask, but couldn't even find the phrase for the question. She wasn't sure what she wanted to ask and whether it was even important.

She settled on what she knew how to do. "Tell me." She could have added the numbers, forced the issue, but she wanted this to be from lover to lover; an act of trust rather than pursuit. "If you can," she qualified, realizing that Miranda still looked somewhat gone; there, but not. She was with Andrea, yes. But...

Miranda forced herself to still her hands, to not lean in for more kisses, to push back from the taste and the pleasure that was everything that was Andrea. She broke the silence, at first with great effort, then it came easier. "I don't ... have words for it. I don't know if I can tell you what you want to know. It won't make sense, because the word exists, but doesn't frame what happens to me exactly right. Try... extrasensory perception. Make it, multisensory perception. Synesthesia. When I touch a fabric, I feel its color as well as its texture. When I touch you I am sensing you, not just color, but... more. I have always had this thing about me, but it seems to have been escalated by this newest rendition of me."

"Not empathy?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. I do not feel what others feel. Before you ask, neither can I hear others' thoughts. It is like my sense of touch is perceived on multiple levels." Miranda considered how to explain. "When my children were born, I didn't have to see them to know who was who. All I had to do was touch them, hold them in my arms, to know. I could find them in the dark, so even late at night I never had to disturb my husband." She smiled whimsically. "Even then, they were their own persons." Her expression became less amused. "I knew when my husband started having an affair, not because I smelled perfume on him or found a hanky with lipstick, or even that he acted differently. He felt different. I touched him and knew."

"Oh. Miranda."

"Water under the bridge." She smiled tightly. "When I read the Book. One of my steps is to run my fingers across the text and the photos, to see where things fit and if they don't fit right, I will either edit or delete."

"Secret weapon."

"Indeed."

"I don't like Irv, not because he's a bad man, though I think he is. I dislike him because when he took my hand on the first day of his assignment as chairman I knew his intentions towards the magazines had nothing to do with quality or even quantity."

"Just profit."

"Yes. An obvious characteristic, but still. I am sure if I touched him now, I would find him appalling. Of course, if I had bothered to 'reach out', maybe I wouldn't be in this predicament."

"How the hell did you end up with Stephen?"

"He did not always feel bad and a woman gets lonely. I did love him."

"I didn't mean it that way. I think I'm still upset he hurt you."

Miranda cupped Andrea's jaw and ran her thumb over the younger woman's lips. "You are addicting. Are you sure I can't..."

"You have a gift," Andrea redirected. She captured Miranda's palm and kissed it, listening to the soft gasp that followed with a pleasure of her own.

"But it has costs. I have my reasons for not wishing to touch just anyone and everyone."

"I... understand." And she did. More and more. "I may have to readjust your list."

Miranda smiled. "Leave Lisle and Jayden."

Andrea grinned. "Of course. But this requires some exploring and testing. And I want you with people who are good for you." She did not say the word safe, though that was on her mind. First because she loved Miranda and second, because she was hers and Andrea always took care of what was hers. She shuddered to think of the pain Miranda would have been in with her "original owners."

"Another medical visit, I take it."

"Not necessarily, but we should tell Addison. Unless it's in your files?"

"If so, it's buried quite deeply. No other physician of mine has ever mentioned knowing or shown understanding of what it might mean."

Andrea had a thought. "Do gloves help?"

"They... can buffer, but I still know what I know and summer is still hot. No point in them."

"And you like feeling the colors and the textures and the extra."

"Most days. Some days..." Miranda shook her head and slid off of Andrea, but kept one leg wrapped around her.

Andrea was suddenly aware of just how wet Miranda was, how lovely she smelled and felt a jolt of need of her own. Her eyes darkened and she felt the other woman still, like prey before a predator. "Miranda?"

"Yes."

"I'm having you for lunch."

"I can hardly wait."

Andrea's lips covered Miranda's in soft benediction.

When she pulled away, Miranda said, "Do you want to hear my trump card? I saved it just in case."

"What?"

"You said that you would."

Andrea laughed, her eyes sparkling, "I did say that, didn't I?"

"Yes."

This time it was Andrea's hands that danced along Miranda's skin, her lips that pressed and teased, her body that slid and braced around her lover's. She was amazed at the responses that simple contact brought about in Miranda. At first, her eyes had closed and her expression had become beatific; as if she were absorbing and receiving something wholly satisfying and distracting. The brunette realized that it must be so, but even then, all Andrea had to say was, "Miranda. Look at me."

Azure eyes had popped open, and the look had been filled with such want, that it made her mouth dry.

She wanted to try something. "Does this feel good?" She stroked her hand along the outer edge of her lover's body.

Miranda watched and inhaled deeply through her nose. She answered. "Yes."

Andrea dragged her nails down, pressing softly, then strongly, then softly again. "This?"

She hardly had to ask the question. Miranda had tilted into the touch. She also answered.

"Yes."

Andrea rested her hand against Miranda's hip, spread her palm and fingers out. Then lifted and applied a slap to the muscled portion there. It wasn't that Miranda rose to greet the force of it, but rather, when her hand slid across in a soothing motion, the other woman had vocalized. "This?"

"When you do it. It's your touch. I like... the way you feel Andrea. Did we not have this discussion?"

Ah. There she was. Andrea hadn't realized she even been worried. "Of course, darling. Does darling suit?"

"I am very rarely darling to anyone, but for you. Perhaps. It is better than slave." Miranda's eyes narrowed. "Also, I would prefer no pony-play. I am not ever a horse."

"On the one hand, I could make you, I'm pretty sure. And you'd be beautiful with the right kit and tail. On the other hand, how the hell do you know about pony-play?"

"Darling," Miranda sat up more fully, tilted, resting on her elbows. "One, I have been around longer than you have. Two, the Internet. My god, the things one sees there. Things that can not be unseen. Is our relationship to be one built on respect and trust or have I mis-read things terribly?"

"Miranda, you will never be a horse. I simply won't allow it." Andrea said sternly.

A blue gaze that had been sharply turning to ice thawed immediately. "Thank you. Mistress." Andrea felt warmed immediately.

"I want to flog you. Just so you are warned. Nothing too extreme, just yet. You may like it and we'll find out. But... I want to experiment with this aspect of you, so very much. To play with it and find out what colors and textures turn you on and off. I want tie you up in silk."

Miranda's lips twitched, "In Hermes scarves?"

Andrea grinned back fiercely and then, leaned forward and deliberately drew her tongue along the side of one of Miranda's breasts. The other woman hissed.

"May I make another request that is near a demand?"

"Yes, but I won't guarantee I'll honor it."

"No gags. No blindfolds. I will close my eyes if you tell me to. I will be silent if you tell me to. But please..."

"Even if the color feels good?"

"I discovered through my own period of experimentation, that gags trigger a panic reflex that I have never been able to overcome." Andrea's eyes widened and Miranda gave a small sharp nod. "Blindfolds. I've very recently become acquainted with them. I find...the idea of them distressing."

"That's a hell of an admission, Miranda. On the one one hand, theory says facing that which provoked trauma can be a positive. On the other, I understand the why. I will consider it. But I ask you to trust me. We will dispense with gags until we establish a point where revisitation of the topic makes sense. After all, it might not have been the gag, but the person who applied it or the circumstances. But I want the blindfold option. Need it. Can you find your way in the dark?"

"Most times."

"Then it wasn't the blindfold that had you scared. You were just off your game."

"Logic. Unfair tactic Andrea." Miranda was nearly smiling.

Andrea nipped at the soft mound of Miranda's breast without breaking skin. "I never claimed to be fair."

"But you are."

"I used to be. I can't always claim that any more."

Miranda cupped her lover's face with her hand. "Andrea." The affection in her tone slid into the younger woman like a piece of home.

"I've gone and distracted you. We can come back to negotiations later. I do want to hear about your experimental phase, though. It sounds like it was..." she waggled her brows, "exciting."

This time Miranda grinned. "Oh, it was."

Andrea kissed that smile into submission, blending it with her own grin, until they were both nearly delirious. She allowed Miranda to explore with her hands, but Andrea began her way back to her original chosen destination. She paused long enough to pay loving attention, mixed with teasing bites along the rounded surface of Miranda's breasts. She felt the pressure of the other woman's fingernails digging into her back and groaned.

"Spread your legs more, Miranda." Andrea's hands moved faster than her lips and one found what she sought, wet and slick and hot. Her fingers slid through moist folds, explored them and found what she sought. She caressed the tender jewel, smiled into the kisses she was layering on her lover's skin. Miranda pushed up.

Andrea checked. Miranda was still watching, still aware and at the same time hazed and lost to the sensations she was creating for her. She was tempted to small talk, just to tease her lover, but changed her mind. She'd save that for a day when Miranda was naughty. She'd find the best small-talker in her employ and stick the older woman with them for the day. She had to plan that, because she wasn't sure spanking would be effective any more as a deterrent.

She played lightly, pressing, rolling and caressing, before sliding her touch even further down. She pressed against the sensitive opening, pushing in slowly. "Do you want to close your eyes?"

"Sometimes."

"You can now, if you want."

"Thank you, Mistress."

Andrea shivered. She'd often been called Mistress, but very few made a gift of it. That Miranda should was so highly erotic. Unexpected.

She pushed in deeper, felt for the pleasure points, watched as her lover pushed back unabashedly. "We'll find the colors that make you happy here, Miranda. Toys that make you scream with pleasure." Like Miranda had made her scream...

She felt breathless with excitement, and leaned in to taste. "Mine," she whispered and she pulled out a little.

Miranda didn't quite whine, but there was a sound of loss, of potent need. "Please, Andrea."

The younger woman pressed in again and timed it to the stroke of her tongue. She felt Miranda digging in with her feet, toes into the bed. "Oh Yes. You do like this."

"Andrea."

The younger woman began her sweet assault in earnest, filling and tasting her lover. Now she didn't care if Miranda watched. She was lost in her own joy, in the heady rush. This was Miranda Priestly. She was hers! The realization sang through her, blessed her with tender ferocity. She drank her Miranda up. She filled her Miranda. She listened as her Miranda cried out with each thrust and felt a kind of rapture as her body responded so totally, so amazingly to her.

"Andrea. Andrea. Oh. Andy!" The woman's incantation switched names, blended them, called out her pleasure. It was a shock to hear the simplification of her name, but it thrilled the younger woman.

She felt the first hint, knew as if it were precognition, just the moment before. Miranda's technologically enhanced voice ceased to operate. The sound came directly from her mouth and was primal, wordless, utterly gorgeous. It shivered through Andrea, causing mini cascades of pleasure, that cycled with the massive one's that shook Miranda's world.

Andrea looked up, wanting to see what the other woman looked like in this state of ecstasy and she groaned with the fire of it. "Mine. You're mine, Miranda Priestly."

The other woman flexed, and came again, deeply and profoundly. A single word crackled, harsh and nearly atonal from all directions. "Yours."

Andrea brought her down, slowing her motions, touching very softly; though each touch brought new shivers, small ecstasies that rippled through her lover. She moved up, deliberately sliding her body along Miranda's and smiled as another heated cascade claimed the other woman. She came to rest on her side, drawing the other woman into embrace.

She kissed the side of Miranda's face. "Come back, sweetheart. Can you?"

The shiver that rolled through Miranda was only slightly different, an obvious rush of pleasure, but at the same time, when the other woman opened her eyes, she was looking. Seeing. Mostly returned to her lover.

Miranda lifted her hand, touching Andrea's face with only her fingertips. She gazed at her with wonder. "Andrea." Her name was a benediction, somehow echoing with emotion even from the speakers.

Brown eyes widened, not quite into a stare, but as another realization hit. "I'm never letting you go, Miranda."

The older woman's smile was slight, but her gaze was fire. "Good."

\- TDWP -


	6. Chapter 6

TDWP: The Devil's Mistress Ch. 6

-TDWP-

They didn't run, but neither did they hesitate. In a few short moments, Miranda was on her knees, holding both her girls; one in each arm. She kissed their cheeks. Her words floated up from the lapel pin she wore, quiet, but firm. "I love you, Carolyn. I love you, Cassidy. I am sorry."

For so many things, but she left that open. They tightened their arms around her and she returned the strong embrace.

"We knew you were close," whispered Carolyn.

"Andy told us." Cassidy whispered in her other ear.

"I'm glad she told you." Miranda pulled back to look at her girls, to run her fingers through their fiery hair. They were vibrant and alive and worried and far less stressed than she would have anticipated. "She's been taking good care of you?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to come live with us? With Andy, I mean?"

"Andrea and I have decided to wait until after the operations, but yes, I will be eventually. Would you like to see where I'm staying right now?" She unfolded from her kneeling position and offered a hand to each daughter.

They clasped it without hesitation. She marveled at the trust they still had in her. She smiled down at them, and squeezed their hands gently. "I think you'll like it."

-TDWP-

Lisle said, "Emily has been retrieved. Word is that Serena has returned to her family in Brazil."

"Be very sure that she made it. Hire people to guard her unobtrusively while she's there." Andrea appeared to be immersed in what she was doing. Lisle was used to her boss' multi-tasking ways.

"I have people on it. Do you want Emily anywhere in particular."

"Yes. Here. As soon as possible."

"Done. She's none-to-happy."

"She's Emily. That's how she is. She'll be happier when she's home with us." Andrea said firmly, not looking up. It wasn't until she heard Lisle leave and thought about it for a moment that her head jerked up in surprise at herself. "Well."

-TDWP-

Later, Lisle arrived with less pleasant news. "We've had contact from someone claiming to be one of the previous owners. They are demanding the right to see how their slave, 4289, is being cared for, citing the Law."

"How interesting. They invoke the Law of Care. The contact, was it direct or via assistant?" This time Andrea swiveled away from the terminal. Her expression hardened.

"Assistant, I'm sorry to say." Lisle grimaced, but she did not shy away from the question.

"Not that anyone would have had anything to complain about, in the whole day and a half that we've had the slave." Andrea sighed. "Drop in or appointment?"

"Appointment. They'll be here in an hour and a half."

"I see. Contact our lawyers and have them here. Make sure the paperwork is very clean and clear as to who owns whom. It pushes up my agenda tremendously. I wished to be there for the imprint, but have Addison mark Miranda and the girls, immediately. We will refine the data contained in the chip later, with better information when we have the chance. I will be changing their status at some point, regardless, but they need the basics now. Then tell Miranda best case scenario and worst and what this is about and get her dressed in something provocative. You might give her the opportunity to choose. She can be positively wicked when she wants to be. Check the list for what I've forbidden and permitted for her so far. I've updated. Send the children back home, put guards at the are not to let anyone in, but myself, you, Miranda, and/or Addison, until the all clear. Call Jason and have him here. And Derik, of course. He can choose agents of protection if he think it is warranted. Is it me, or do you think this is a very great risk for someone to take?"

"High stakes equal high risks. It's also arrogance. I doubt they know who you are. If they did, they wouldn't try to manipulate the rules, but would have tried for an outright fiscal exchange. They must want slave 4289 very, very badly."

"They can't have her. She's mine." Andrea waved her hand at her suddenly smiling minion. "Go."

-TDWP-

A French accented tirade occurred outside of Andrea's office. "I demand to see whomever is running this establishment! I insist on my slave's return! Number 4289. My lawyers have the papers. She was not to be sold. It says so right here!"

"I can not take those, Ms. Follett." Lisle spoke calmly, though her voice also carried. "As you had the foresight to make an appointment, my Mistress awaits. If you will follow me, please?"

Jacqueline Follett found there was nothing else to do, but follow the blonde. The new editor of Runway America was dressed to impress, with a dark grey pinstripe jacket and pencil skirt, white blouse, very expensive jewelry and accessories and black high heels. Her dark, short hair was fashionably spiked, her makeup refined. Brown eyed daggers tried to pierce through Lisle's receding back, but had no impact on the assistant. The Frenchwoman snapped her fingers for the lawyers and her usual lackeys to follow.

They did not enter, as expected, an office, but rather a spacious conference room. People in suits were already seated, with a brunette in a classic short black dress sitting at the obvious head of the table. Behind her stood two very big men, also in suits, but with official looking badges on their belts. The men who were seated in the room, stood up politely.

"Please," the brunette said. "Make yourselves comfortable." She indicated the free seats at the outer perimeter of the desk. She smiled at one of the lawyers that accompanied Jacqueline. "Hello, Stephan. Welcome back. I am sure you are looking forward to working with Quincy." She nodded at one of her own. Stephan cleared his throat as he took a seat, waved meekly at Quincy, and could not quite meet the brunette's eyes.

Jacqueline glowered at Stephan, but was distracted when the brunette continued. "Lisle, you may take the paperwork now and hand them to our lawyers." The Frenchwoman took a second look at the woman at the head of the table, trying to place where she had seen her before and then dismissed it as an illusion of her profession. She'd seen hundreds of women in her time and it was probably a blend of features trying to fool her memory.

"Yes, Mistress." Lisle approached Jacqueline's lawyers and waited. Jacqueline was suddenly aware of the documents still clutched in her hands. She pressed them quickly at Stephan and waited impatiently while papers shifted hands until they reached the blonde.

"We would also appreciate electronic copies. They are so much more reliable than paper, which tends to get lost so easily. Would you mind transmitting them now?"

Jacqueline looked at the man who was supposed to be heading her team. He smiled reassuringly at her and then offered a shark's smile to the Mistress of the establishment. "Of course, Mistress Six." He pulled out a handheld device, and in a few moments sent the file on.

"Thank you. Mistakes do happen. So you won't mind, of course, if I verify the timestamp of the documentation? My people are very good a determining whether a file has been manipulated."

"I assure you our paperwork is in order. And yours?"

"We have several files for your perusal, including, of course, the receipt and some very interesting medical files." Andrea tapped her fingernails on the surface of the table. "Ms. Follett. Have you, by any chance, been watching the news?"

"I fail to see what that has to do with you returning my slave."

"Mere chit-chat, as we wait for file exchanges to be adequately parsed." Andrea sat back and pressed her fingertips together. "I saw the most interesting interview very early this morning. Something about a magazine losing an editor recently. I understand congratulations are in order."

The flash in Jacqueline's eyes came and went so quickly, that Andrea would have missed it if she hadn't been watching for it. "Oh. Yes. A terrible tragedy that. We are all quite devastated. I was called in to help out."

"Indeed. Lisle, would you mind fetching 4289? Thank you." She didn't bother to watch the blonde scurry away. Andrea's smile was quicksilver and gone. "Let us begin with receipts. I have mine. Do you have yours? For tax purposes, of course."

"I frankly don't see how this applies."

"Anyone can come in waving papers, Ms. Follett. In fact, that happens quite often here. We might discuss the why later, but I can say it happens enough that we follow several procedures. One of which is to demand proof of purchase, or, barring that, we have other options. For instance, tax receipts. After all, if you own a slave and are honest, you pay the taxes on them. Thus creating a nice, healthy 'paper' trail that is most handy for days like this one, where there is a dispute. And I, of course, dispute your claim of ownership."

"Taxes. Receipts. I never look at those. That's something my accountant handles. Naturally I don't have them with me."

"Oh. Well, then we shall address the topic in another way, when 4289 arrives."

"It doesn't change that 4289 was not supposed to be sold..."

"Shall we consult the public documentation on the date of purchase? My country's laws are very particular on that subject. Very stringent. One might even say brutally clear about the consequence of failure to list the deposition of a slave correctly. Derik?"

"Yes, Mistress." The big man on Andrea's left stepped forward and handed her a slate, which she handed to the nearest lawyer on her left. The slate was then passed down the row until it arrived in the hand of one of Jaqueline's people. "You will note the date-stamp, the official signatures of two state officers, the table of available slaves for purchase and their status on that particular date and time. A copy is included in the files we have ported to you. You may keep the slate if you wish. It has all the documentation."

The head shark cleared his throat and handed the slate over to the next lawyer in line. "It is understood that perhaps there are differing opinions as to the status of the slave. However, my client is prepared to reward you handsomely for the slave's return."

Before Andrea could opine that there wasn't a sum large enough, the doors to the conference room swung open. Lisle, followed by the slave in question, walked in.

Even as a slave the woman who strolled in was a commanding presence, moving with grace and power. Short, styled, silver hair that was nearly pure white, glinted and moved in natural waves with each step. She wore six inch black stilettos, obsidian silk stockings that sculpted the length of her legs. That was revealed by the long slit in her tight cherry red skirt, which displayed her thigh with even her even steps. A red leather belt, stitched with black and with a wide silver buckle wrapped around her waist, decorative, rather than needed. The black silk blouse, opened to a deep "v," revealing delightfully rounded cleavage and toned midsection. A long, single silver chain only emphasized her curves, while silver hoops finished the whole.

Andrea's breath was stolen by how strikingly sensual Miranda looked. She was not the only one.

Meanwhile, Jacqueline stood up rapidly, pointed beside herself and barked, "Slave. Come here."

The silver-haired woman stalled visibly and pivoted, turning toward the person making the command. She grimaced, obviously distressed.

Mistress Six barked, just as firmly. "4289, belay that. 4289, disregard all slave directives from Jacqueline Follett, her permission to command is denied. 4289, come here." This time it was Andrea who was pointing at a particular space on the ground.

Once again the woman pivoted, but this time she walked most firmly away from the Frenchwoman.

The Mistress narrowed her eyes. "That was a thoughtless thing to do, Ms. Follett."

"Thoughtless!"

"Among other things. Slave Stephan, you may return to your seat." Jacqueline looked startled as she realized the lawyer was standing right beside her, at the point she had indicated. Mistress Six continued, "It is common practice among many industries to search for people of skill who might have landed on the wrong side of the block. They buy the contract and let them work it off. If it is a good company, it happens in a reasonable amount of time. A bad one... well... they will up the stakes. But really, that wasn't what I was addressing. One should always, at the very least, specify the slave one is commanding. Especially in group. It leads to misunderstandings otherwise, and some owners are quite possessive."

Andrea took that moment to glance up at her quivering lover. Miranda's hands were fisted, her body ramrod straight even though she was shaking. The color on her cheeks, while a lovely shade, really emphasized the killer look on her face. The only reason she wasn't speaking was that the brunette had the forethought to order silence before the meeting.

She planned on making up for it later.

She took one of the fisted hands in her own, tugged on it. "4289, focus on point." Miranda turned to look at Andrea. "I will be asking questions and tapping into your protocol database. You may answer only my questions and protocol commands. Nod once if that is clear."

The silver-haired woman nodded in one sharp motion.

"4289." Andrea turned her seat slightly and patted her lap. She tugged, lightly. "Sit, comfortably."

Miranda slid onto Andrea's lap, wrapping one arm around the brunette's shoulder. She leaned against her, but did not melt into Andrea as she had previously.

Mistress Six turned the chair slightly, wrapping her arm around the slave's waist. She caressed Miranda's cheek with the knuckles of her free hand and smiled when her lover pressed against the touch, even with the spark in her eyes. "Lovely." She could get lost in those eyes.

Andrea turned her attention to the Frenchwoman and reluctantly stopped touching Miranda's face. She brought her hand down all little lower, letting her fingertips rub in gentle, lazy circles and strokes just at the end of the "V" of her lover's blouse. Miranda settled more firmly against Andrea, but her attention turned grimly back toward the people at the other end of the table.

Andrea said, "Now that those of us who are supposed to be sitting are, I suppose we have an opportune moment for me to bring up another topic, related but different. You may recall the newscast I spoke of earlier."

Jaqueline was staring at the woman in the Mistress' lap, her hands were clasping and unclasping. The slave's eyes were cold and hard, shooting daggers of hate across the table. "Of course I do," Jacqueline snapped.

"The news agencies do love their photos." Andrea slid her hand soothingly along Miranda's side. "One in particular stood out for me. The previous editor, the one said to be demised. She had the most interesting shade of hair. Don't you agree, Ms. Follett? Of course, there is nothing unusual about it. But, that this slave you are attempting to ... well, I won't call it steal, just yet."

"Steal!" Jacqueline sputtered. "How dare you!"

"Save the histrionics. I'm not finished speaking."

"Are you going to let her talk to me like that?"

"Ms. Follet, continue to interrupt me, and I shall have my guard escort you out of my building." The words were sharp, the discipline behind the vocalization just emphatic enough to cause the other woman's mouth to snap shut.

The Mistress continued. "As I was pointing out, 4289 bears a striking resemblance to that photo. Or so I thought. Lisle, did you see the similarities this morning?"

"Yes, Mistress. I did."

"Do you think others might have observed the similarities?"

"I hesitate to speculate, Mistress. I would have to see the photo again, I suppose."

"Lisle, would you mind retrieving that broadcast. Search and then pause at that image. We might be displaying it for our common perusal in a few minutes. I'll let you know when, so do come back after your preparation."

"Of course, Mistress." Lisle bowed slightly and then exited the conference room again.

"Ms. Follet, let us return to the case of ownership. You don't have receipts with you. You don't have tax statements. You do have papers of demand, drawn up recently by your lawyers. You may note in our documentation we have papers of stop, drawn up recently by mine, as well as the sundries previously indicated.

"I mentioned that once 4289 arrived we might be able to clarify states of ownership. Before we do that, however, I'd like to give you, Ms. Follett a chance to withdraw your claim." Andrea's expression was nigh unto benign and permissive.

"How dare you! I will not!" Jacqueline exclaimed.

The young Mistress' expression became much cooler. "I have several reasons. Not the least of which might be the messy application of penalties, should we go much further."

"Penalties," Jacqueline's eyes were narrowed and she was glancing back at her lawyers. "What are you blathering on about. This is a simple case of returning a slave."

"Well, there is the personal. What do I do to people who lie to me, 4289?"

"Punish them." Miranda's vocal reply was a simple declaration, but her expression was completely dire. She definitely had a target in mind.

"As she learned only recently. Didn't you, 4289?" Andrea's gentle soothing motions expanded to something more comforting.

Miranda exhaled and her expression softened a smidgen. "Yes."

Andrea offered a tight smile to Jacqueline. "And then there is the professional. 4289, protocol discovery search, vocalize equal yes for the purpose of answering the discovery; define original status, define originating date and induction to current status of slave, the reason listed for enslavement. End protocol discovery search. Then explain, in your own words, how you came to be a slave."

"Original status, 4289, American Citizen, Freewoman," Miranda's words erupted from the speakers, cold and mechanical. She then continued, pinpointing an exact date that was quite recent and the place and point of creation. She then described in simplified detail, how she had arrived at the state of slavery. While the word kidnapped was never used, it was obvious from the story told that was what had happened. The story made worse by the fact that the last thing she remembered were her childrens' terrified faces.

Andrea's gaze turned toward Jacqueline, who had blanched, her eyes narrowing as she tried to conceal her rising panic beneath an expression of shock and surprise. "So. Now, let us add a query to the pool, shall we? 4289, please list any previous owners to myself."

The silence was deafening.

Andrea let it go on for a good minute. "4289. End list." She smiled coolly. "Ms. Follett, I find myself confused. You come here with claims of previous ownership, yet you are not listed as a prior owner. Can you please explain this discrepancy? I would truly hate for there to be a misunderstanding. Your lawyers might be able to go into more detail, but filing a false claim is the same as theft, and carries equally harsh punishments."

"You surely aren't taking the word of a slave over..."

"Ms. Follett, has no one explained protocol features to you? Well, let me pose a query to your lawyer friends. Stephan, while the mere word of a slave may fall under question in the legal system, please share with us the current ruling regarding the admissibility of protocol database queries."

The gentleman in question cleared his throat and glanced at his boss, not at Ms. Follett. Upon receiving the nod, he spoke. "The database queries have been found to be admissible in all courts, so far. One stated purpose was to provide accurate detail for sellers, buyers, and owners. A secondary purpose was to provide accurate records for the courts and state."

"Have these records ever been successfully falsified?"

"Not to my knowledge." He answered hesitantly. "It would require extensive investigation into the database in question and that would require a court order. For a court order to be issued, a slave would have to convince his or her owner that their records are false, and the owner would have to request the investigation and be willing to pay the fees."

"Thank you Stephan. Now, Ms. Follett, here are some facts that you should be aware of before we proceed. I am a wealthy woman. I am also a former slave myself. One who was falsely entered into the system. As such, I have always taken such claims very seriously. I will not and have not hesitated to pay any fees required to ensure that any slave I have purchased, has not come into this life under false pretenses or if they have, to rectify what can be. Nor will I hesitate to allow any of my slaves to take the stand, if necessary. I will ask this one final time. Do you wish to go forth with your claims?"

Andrea supposed she had to admire the other woman for her calm state. Jacqueline, though obviously taken aback, appeared to settle into back into her chair. Andrea could clearly see the panic in her eyes, but none of it was evident in her face or voice. "That slave is mine. I don't know what kind of games you are playing, or what hackers you've used to erase my information, but she is mine and I demand her return. I will take this to the courts, if necessary."

Andrea smiled, her eyes suddenly cold and hard. "Excellent. Produce your proofs of ownership, and we will go from there. Until then, 4289 remains safely within the walls of this facility, and you will know both where she is, and that she will be adequately cared for. Ladies and gentlemen, have a good day. Lisle, escort them out, please."

Jacqueline stood up with the rest, but waited until her people had filed out. She started toward the door, then abruptly closed it. Then she turned, and, as if the idea was one she had been contemplating for hours, said, "If I said that I was here to rescue the slave?"

"4289, answer honestly, do you need to be rescued from this facility or myself?"

"No." The look in her eyes gave the word all the inflection the mechanical voice could not.

"Ms. Follet, I can't help but question your... integrity at this point. You are excused." Andrea deliberately turned her chair and attention away from the Frenchwoman. She leaned in and whispered to Miranda, "Just a few more minutes, darling."

The door clicked behind them. Andrea turned enough to reach a button. "Lisle, once Ms. Follet and company have gone, please have our lawyers, and Derik and Jason rejoin us please, as well as yourself. Thank you."

She pulled Miranda closer and used two fingers to draw her face around. "Well, that just fit another piece to the puzzle, didn't it?"

The older woman would have growled if she could, but the snarl at her lips sufficed. It was a sexy expression despite the anger inherent in it and tempted Andrea beyond belief. She leaned in, snatching a kiss from her lover. The older woman held back, very briefly, then hummed and sank into the deepening caress. When Andrea pulled back, again, very reluctantly, Miranda's expression was much softened.

"I will say this. Even if she doesn't have anything to do with your enslavement, which I highly doubt, I would make her pay just for trying to snatch you away from me. Oh, you may count on it."

Miranda's gleaming smile in return was very toothy.

-TDWP-

"Thank you for returning so soon."

Quincy indicated his fellow lawyers. "We never quite left. I thought perhaps you might wish to consult."

"Such foresight. Lisle, if you would engage the projection please?"

An image displayed at the center of the table. "This, gentlemen is Miranda Priestly. According to her former employer, she's dead. According to my sources, no remains have been found or buried. Interesting, yes?"

"Very."

"4289, would you please stand over there." Andrea pointed to a space just behind the projected image. "You have read the briefs regarding her condition upon arrival at my facility, so I believe you must be aware of her current status. Regardless of entry into the system, she is, of course, legally mine. However, I find I resent highly, her means of arrival to me."

"As always," Lisle commented quietly.

"Yes. As always." Andrea's eyes narrowed. "So, Quincy, ladies and gentlemen. Do you observe what I see?"

Quincy stared at the projected image and then at the slave. "Ms. Follet hasn't a leg to stand on. I'll start the paperwork."

Andrea lifted a hand. "Ah. Details. Let us confirm, shall we?"

"4289, please identify yourself by your legal name, previous to your enslavement."

"Miranda Priestly."

"4289, thank you. Please come take a seat by me. We're almost done here." Andrea waited until Miranda was seated. Then she reached out and took the woman's hand in her own. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like you to open a new case on behalf of one Miranda Priestly and her two children. We would like to fight the battle in our courts here, as they favor us, but must be prepared for courts elsewhere. When it's time we will contact her lawyers. I am very sure they will be interested in joining us in the pursuit of justice for their client. We will just have to make sure that they understand the rules.

"Also, I would like, Lisle, to hire two teams of detectives. One for Mr. Irv Ravitz and one for Ms. Jacqueline Follett. I want this air tight, ladies and gentlemen. They made my Miranda afraid. They made my girls afraid. They wrongfully enslaved not only her, but two innocent children, and killed a friend of mine." Andrea's expression turned hard and implacable. "I want long-term suffering. Fair means or foul. Understood?"

-TDWP-


	7. Chapter 7

TDWP: The Devil's Mistress Ch. 7

Andrea let go of Miranda's hand once everyone else had left again. Then she said, "4289, Permission parameters reset. Restore network vocal privileges. You are free to move as you will until such time as commanded otherwise by me."

Andrea fully expected an eruption of some sort, something blistering and searingly painful. After all, she had invoked silence on her lover, had made her endure protocol discovery in front of someone who she already had disliked intensely, and basically restricted movement. It wasn't that she thought she deserved that kind of response, nor even did she hope for it. It was that Miranda Priestly was a woman who usually shot with both barrels and did not miss.

So, Andrea turned in her seat, wanting to, if she was going to receive the shot, at least observe the shooter.

Miranda's hands bunched into fists on the table, and she closed her eyes. Her lips straightened and compressed into a hard line that did not quite make into a frown and was not, oddly, pursed. She inhaled deeply through her nostrils and Andrea worried, as she saw the knuckles of her lover's hands turn white.

"Miranda?" She said the woman's name quietly and did not hide the worry in her timbre.

"In the nineties," Miranda said, without opening her eyes or unclenching her fists, "Stress balls became part of the arsenal of stress-relief. My therapist recommended that I have one in my office at home and at work. I prided myself on the fact that I rarely utilized the stupid things, as I had my own means of stress control. Though I did get them made for the Runway personnel, in suitable colors and styles. It seemed the thing to do at the time. I wonder if anyone ever used them." The editor's lips curled slightly. Andrea managed a breath. "Very few persons have caused me to seek out the tool and actually attempt to mash it into pulp. Jacqueline Follet is one of them. I will own that those things are ingenious. But, Jacqueline's and my professional relationship has had many... sparks and many unfortunate encounters along the way. Our management styles are completely incompatible and I find her aesthetic sense unequal to mine. Still, I tried for the sake of Runway to at least appreciate what she brought to the table. I had thought, with her success with James Holt International, our little feud was over. It seems, I was sorely mistaken." Miranda opened her eyes, pushed back in her seat, causing it to slide back. Then she stood up. She turned and stared down at Andrea, blue eyes intent and searching.

The brunette leaned back and forced her expression to become impassive.

Miranda finally said, expression stern. "I have a limit, however. I will not have my girls sacrificed on the altar of her destruction, Andrea."

"Our girls." Andrea corrected. "And the most they would have to do is stand in court, if that much. I am not interested in sacrificing anyone, Miranda. Especially not you or the girls. It's not even a question."

Miranda nodded then, accepting Andrea's word as sufficient. "If you have time, would you consider walking with me to the courtyard?"

The brunette blinked and then stood up from her seat. "I would love to. Did you have something in mind?"

"No. I just don't have a stress ball, and it seems... you have a soothing effect upon me." Miranda turned and started toward the door. She opened it.

Andrea's lips curled into a smile of affection and she started forward.

Miranda held the door open. "After you. Mistress."

The brunette paused and cupped Miranda's cheek. She stroked her thumb along the soft surface. "We will make it right."

-TDWP-

"I keep hearing this name. Jason. What is it, exactly, that Jason does?" Miranda addressed the question to Jayden, later, after a most pleasant perambulation with their mistress. She had felt that, because of the woman's help, she'd been able to overcome some hurdles she might not have otherwise. She also wanted to get to know her a little better. She was, after all, on the list and there had to be a reason. Miranda had arrived at the conclusion that, despite her original misconceptions, Andrea was actually very circumspect and picky about her partner selection and even more so in regards to those whom she "owned."

Her mistress tailored relationships like a designer might. That intrigued the editor very much.

"Like all of us, he has several duties, but his main calling is discipline. He's a top. A very good one. I'd check your list first, before contacting him though. He's very busy." Jayden smiled to take any possible sting out of the comment. She looped her arm through Miranda's enjoying the time away from her lab and the walk. If she notice the other woman slow a little before resuming their original pace, she did not comment.

"Are there that many disciplinary problems for Andrea?"

"What? No. Jason's just popular. A lot of us, gained a few new ... hmmm... sensitivities. He's real good at nailing down what they are."

"Ah. I see." And Miranda was beginning to, each new detail was adding layers to her understanding. She exhaled. "I believe Jason is on the list, but Andrea informed me that she had things she wished to try with me. I think I shall wait, at least until such time as she can be with me, barring an order from her." Her lips quirked at the thought. "It is very odd not being the one in charge."

"Kind of nice as a change though?" Jayden cocked her head a little.

"In some ways. In others..."

"Top dog does have its benefits."

Miranda could hear the humor and glanced at her young new friend. "Yes. It does." They arrived at Jayden's door and paused.

The young woman turned to look at Miranda. Then impulsively leaned forward. The older woman met her in the middle and their lips met and joined softly. The kiss was moist and sweet. "Come inside?"

Miranda considered the time and her mood. "I am not sure I would be pleasant company."

Jayden grinned, "That assumes I want to do a lot of talking with you."

"I am not in the habit of just leaping into bed with just anyone."

Jayden grasped Miranda's hand and squeezed it gently. "I'm not just anyone. I'm on your list."

"And if Andrea should need me?"

"She knows how to find us."

"I am not used to..." So many things she could not even begin to articulate.

"That's the point. No one ever is. Thus..."

"The list."

Jayden cocked a brown and opened the door. "I promise, I'll only bite a little bit."

"I thought you had a toy you were going to ..."

"I did."

"And..."

"Then I met you. Plus toys aren't exactly totally out of the question." Jayden offered a mischievous smile.

"Oh?" An elegant brow rose, her curiosity peaked in spite of herself.

-TDWP-

If Jayden's demeanor sometimes seemed like that of a perky cheerleader, her decor indicated a mature taste. Miranda was unable to resist running her hands along the couch's fabric. It was both texturally soft and visually soothing. Comfortable on several levels. So she settled back and waited for Jayden to finish pouring drinks and deliver them.

Despite earlier teases, the younger woman's attention to the detail was deliberate. The drinks were fixed perfectly and delivered with a solemn demeanor. She sat down by Miranda, turned toward her, and handed the drink over.

The tumbler was filled with an amber liquid. Jayden lifted hers in a small, unspoken toast, before they both sipped. Miranda closed her eyes as the liquid slid over her tongue with familiar tingly heat and flavor. The smoky accent merely added to the textural sensation. She hummed. When she opened her eyes again, her gaze had gone sultry as the heat flowed from sternum to belly, warming what was already there.

"Jayden," Miranda's tongue slid over the younger woman's name, electrified it.

The younger woman shivered visibly in response. Miranda set her tumbler, not empty, on a coaster and reached for Jayden's, who let hers go without a word. Then, the silver-haired woman looped her hand through the cloth of the younger woman's shirt and drew her forward. She kissed her, without hesitation, without lingering over "should I, shouldn't I?"

Their fresh contact of their lips sparked more sweet heat into desire, one layered with more than mere biological impulse. Jayden pressed, then, pushing Miranda back on the couch before straddling her legs. She cupped the older woman's face between her hands just as she was grabbed at the the hips. She pulled back, noticed that Miranda's eyes were closed, and her expression was one of basking in sunlight.

The younger woman took in the profound expression, and measured it in her heart. "Miranda."

"Yes," the response was a sultry purr. She did not open her eyes.

Jayden started to say something, then reconsidered. "Never mind." She leaned forward and kissed her new lover again. This time, as the kiss deepened, she kept her eyes open, despite the increasingly melting pleasure of it. Miranda's fingertips pressed into her hips, pulling her forward, until they were pressing more closely together. Jayden's hands drifted from Miranda's face, drew down her skin. The older woman exhaled in brief bursts, as if that act alone was greatly pleasurable.

"Miranda," Jayden said, "Will you look at me for a moment?"

She opened her eyes, which were deepened with desire and Jayden pulled back a little so she could see more clearly. The younger woman brushed her fingertips against Miranda's lips, felt the press in return. "I think we need to get undressed, Miranda," Jayden said. "Would you come to my room with me?"

Miranda nodded. "I may lose speech, though."

"I understand. We'll use," Jayden pressed her palm against Miranda's neck and the other woman leaned into the touch, "... signals."

-TDWP-

Naked was much better, Jayden thought. She grinned at Miranda's obvious amusement. Jayden had a well trimmed pink strip of curls. It matched her hair, of course, which was part of why the older woman was amused. Not that Miranda really looked older. The editor's body was just as supple, just as primed, as Jayden's; silver hair above and below not withstanding.

"You're beautiful," the inventor said, as she restraddled Miranda, this time upon the bed. The other woman leaned back on her hands, but as their skin touched she sat up and wrapped her arms around Jayden, drawing her closer.

From the ground, Jayden heard, "It is you, who are beautiful." Then Miranda's lips connected with the underside of her chin, her neck, her collarbone. Small licks and nibbles caused her to grasp the older woman more tightly to her, but it was the way Miranda's hands were touching her that caused Jayden to arc forward.

Miranda twisted around a little, bringing Jayden around and then down until she was flat on her back. Her gaze took in the younger woman's body, evaluating and appreciating as she explored, full bodily, legs, trunk, arms, palm and fingers. She offered no more words, instead focusing that energy on communicating in other ways.

Jayden was an active participant. She grasped one of Miranda's hands and drew it down her body to where she wanted it. She heard the intake of breath as Miranda's fingertips floated over slick curls. Once there, the other woman took over, stirring Jayden's desire until the younger woman was flexing her hips to push the sensitive touch deeper.

By the time Miranda was pressing into her, it was as if she knew exactly where, exactly how, to summon Jayden. The strokes were so sure, so pleasurable. "More?"

One of Jayden's hands slid down Miranda's belly, until it was pressed over that imprinted space. She pushed, gently pressing a fingertip along the seam. She felt Miranda's body flex. The older woman slid back slightly, eyes widening.

Words floated up, mechanical and hesitant, even as the older woman was shaking her head slightly. "Jayden... I haven't... Andrea and I... we didn't..."

The younger woman groaned, disappointed. "I see," she panted. But she stroked the seam again, felt it open slightly to her touch. "Do you want to?"

Instead of answering directly, Miranda gently grasped Jayden's hand and drew it down lower. Then she said, "Soon, yes. But... I... I know it's there, but..."

"... need time to get used to the idea."

"Yes." Miranda nodded. "But also, Andrea has asked me to wait on using any 'additions.' I still have some check ups to go through."

Jayden smiled whimsically, then pressed up and in, causing Miranda to gasp. "Okay. This is good too."

Miranda returned the favor, her own smile turning fierce as she nodded. Then, with her other hand she made a turning motion, indicating herself and Jayden.

The young woman grinned back. "I like the way you think."

In short order they were positioned differently, with Miranda facing one direction and Jayden in the opposite. The older woman was still on top, on knees and forearms. The younger woman only teased the seam once with her tongue, lightly brushing the strong hidden muscle with the tip, just to hear the strangled gasp of her lover. Then she moved her efforts elsewhere and lower, dropping into the sweet slick velvet, with tender urgency.

They tasted each other, tongues gliding erotically in tempo to their other touches. It was achingly good, and Jayden felt the first warning shudders of the oncoming flood, with each new thrust and pull. Then, she felt the scrape of fingertips along her own sensitive seam, it was just enough, to accompany what had gone before, what was happening then. She felt Miranda clasp hard around her fingers, felt the other woman shudder into the erotic flash, knew that the moment was shared, sparked together. Jayden cried out, shook out into the greater abyss, pleasure leaping behind her eyes and skin and everywhere.

Later, they lay on their sides, facing one another. Miranda had pulled the shorter woman closer, holding her gently. She let one hand caress the other woman's back softly. The other just held her close.

Jayden exhaled. "She wouldn't mind, you know. It's... not like it is on the outside. There are some first times that... they just don't matter the same, because, as long as it's with someone she trusts..." She didn't expect an answer.

Miranda drew back and looked Jayden in the eyes. "I am aware. I meant only what I said. You needn't worry." She smiled slightly. "I still respect you. After all. You are my naughty tailor."

The younger woman blinked, then grinned back. "Yes. Yes, I am."

-TDWP-

Miranda could have stayed with Jayden that night and she was tempted, but she realized there was just something she needed to do. Leaving was more difficult than she expected, and while she made sure her young lover was aware of her plans, she also stayed long enough to hold her until she slept and a little longer. Someone observing might have noted that her posture was quite different leaving than it was upon arrival. Miranda was in a much better mental space.

She checked in on the girls. Andrea was away from her home, but the girls were there, still under the protective watch of guards. Miranda was glad to see the stalwarts by the door. They let her past without question and she entered with a confidence based on the schematics that her Mistress had provided.

The girls, as she expected, were asleep, but they mumbled as they always did when she kissed them goodnight. It was a ritual restored, and added yet another element of comfort to all of them.

Miranda considered staying and waiting for Andrea to come home, but she did not know her lover's schedule and she didn't want to intrude. Even with plans made, it did not do to assume too much. Andrea would know she had been there, because of the guards and possibly some other means. She did not need to leave a message.

She did anyway, sending a brief stream through the network, leaving it open for Andrea to pursue lines of questions if she so desired.

It was only after she'd managed these details that she finally paid real attention to where she was at and she let curiosity be her guide for a few minutes, drifting from the girls room to explore Andrea's home.

It made her think of her own home in many ways, though it was a bit more modern. Still, there was a core sense of lived in warmth, that bent what could have been austerity into something much more receptive. She liked it.

She was in the living room when she heard the entryway door open, and decided to stay right where she was. It would only be someone who was allowed in the house and thus no threat. She wanted to finish looking at a picture that had drawn her attention.

It wasn't large, but it was framed and the holographic image depicted a woman, arm casually looped around Andrea's shoulder, laughing in genuine merriment. Andrea was looking at her with amused tolerance.

"That was a good day," Andrea said.

Miranda turned enough to look at the younger woman. "Is this her?"

Andrea drew closer and wrapped her arm around Miranda's waist. "Yes." She did not elaborate, might never do so.

Miranda looked up and examined her Andrea's face. "You look tired."

"I'm glad you spent time with Jayden."

"Yes." Miranda offered a slightly teasing glance at the younger woman. "It was... unexpectedly lovely."

"Would you call her soothing?" Andrea's lips quirked in humor.

"If you had asked me that earlier today I would have said no." Miranda pulled Andrea closer, "But now... Yes."

"Kiss me?"

Miranda leaned forward suddenly and touched her lips to Andrea's and it caught.

The kiss was breathtakingly sweet and just long enough. After they reluctantly parted, Andrea closed her eyes and leaned against Miranda, absorbing strength through the contact. The younger woman realized she couldn't bear the thought of Miranda leaving, but she also didn't want to make it a command. "Stay?"

"Have you eaten?" Miranda drew back only enough to watch Andrea's face.

"Yes."

"Then perhaps we should call it a night, shower and sleep?"

"I would really like that."

-TDWP-

Awakening in Miranda's arms was a revelation, partly because she had never thought of the older woman as one who would hold someone all the way through the night and partly because Andrea had slept so utterly well. And finally, because it had been something longed for and never expected. Morning light peeked through the shade and curtains, casting light and dark over the bedspread in parallel lines. Andrea was highly aware of Miranda's warmth at her back and around her, even through the silk of her pajama top.

As if somehow alerted to the change in Andrea's state, the arm that had been clasped around her waist started withdraw. The younger woman halted the movement, not wanting to give up nearness just yet. She pressed Miranda's hand against her belly, felt the other woman gently knead her fingers against the silky cloth. It made her smile, because she was beginning to truly understand that the other woman could not help it.

"Emily's supposed to be in after noon. But today is the day that you are supposed to go in. Do you want to see her before. Or after."

Miranda's voice rose quietly from the speakers. "She is not likely to just generally accept things as they are. It would take convincing. But, if she hears me as I am now, she might argue, but she'll be forced to believe."

Andrea nodded her head slightly. "I think you're right." She moved, turning to face Miranda.

The older woman brushed her fingertips lightly over Andrea's cheek, her ear, her hair. "I try to be, as often as possible." Her lips quirked, "It always seems to go so much better when I am. The times I'm wrong," she exhaled, "can be so disastrous, it is much safer to be, if not right, then at the very least, as close as possible the majority of the time."

Andrea pressed her lips against Miranda's enjoying the soft lush feel of them. She said, wearily, "With so many lives at stake, I understand that so much better now."

"I know you do." Miranda kissed her back, without pressure to continue. "I know." She said, with a sigh, "You do taste very good, Andrea."

"Do I?"

"Mm. Yes."

"And Jayden?"

"She tastes equally as good, only in a different way. As I suspect, will the others. I'd compare you to mint chocolate mocha and her to a berry tart, but don't ask me why."

Andrea considered and she laid her hand on Miranda's hip, "I think I understand."

"Andrea."

"Yes?"

"It does not make what I feel for you, any less. I have ... loved you... for a very long time."

"Oh. Miranda. Me too." Andrea pressed close. "I know." She kissed the side of her Miranda's face. "I knew that. You needn't worry. I haven't... changed the rules on you. "

The older woman exhaled, "I have a request, which you may not understand, but it is something..."

"What do you need, darling?"

"Put Emily on the list."

Andrea did not gasp, did not shrink back, or charge Miranda with false feeling. She did spend moments just observing her lover, taking in the serious cast of her expression and she considered who they were talking about. "I thought she was with Serena."

"I don't know that they aren't, but... when I last saw them," Miranda managed to say that without flinching. "I believe they had taken some time away from one another."

"Did you ... were you lovers?"

Miranda cocked a brow. "No. But it's not because she wasn't interested. It simply wasn't ... realistic at the time, for too many reasons. Not the least of which was professional. Still. Once aware, I made choices. She works ... worked in the art department, so that took her out of my realm. It was necessary and time. She deserved the raise and has quite the eye. But. She is Emily. I already know... she would be ... " She paused, not sure how to phrase things any better. She already felt quite raw saying anything at all.

Andrea laid her hand on her lover's cheek and smiled softly.

-TDWP-

Jayden stood in front of Andrea's desk, one hand on her hip, the other on the piece of paper that she had laid flat in front of the Mistress. "I know you don't need this, and you can take this as only a suggestion, but it's a strong one. Miranda's list needs revising."

Andrea cocked a brow and liberated the paper from Jayden's grip. Before saying anything, she took a moment to read it. Her brows arched more.

Jayden leaned forward, "She's unique, Andrea. You may have noticed."

Andrea looked up, taking in the rare seriousness of the other woman's expression. She kept her tone very neutral, "You've really cut a swath through the options, Jay."

"I know." Jayden scratched the back of her neck. "I just..."

"Jay." Andrea said, as she set the paper on her desk. "Thank you for caring enough to do this. Understand, I will make the choices, but I will also take your suggestions under advisement."

Jayden exhaled and settled a bit. "Okay. Okay. Thank you. It's just... she glows. Andy."

"I know."

-TDWP-

It was difficult for Andrea to anticipate Emily's needs. It had been awhile since they'd even laid eyes on one another and she wasn't entirely sure what type of mood her former partner in misery would be in, other than snarky and angry. She had Lisle prepare both a guest room in her home and a cottage, just in case.

She also had the bulk of Miranda's belongings shifted to her home, much to her assistant's amused happiness. Andrea owned the moment, agreeing at the last that yes, she should have done that in the first place, but there had been no way to know, really, how Miranda would respond and sometimes... Yes, Lisle had been right. And Miranda was not opposed, especially given that she'd be living with Andrea soon anyhow.

She'd made sure that there were spaces for her love, places that were Miranda's own, and she'd opened an account for her lover so she could personalize things to her liking. Andrea was not above letting Miranda be a kept woman for awhile, just to let her recuperate longer, but she knew that the editor would not be content to remain so for very long. They would talk about office and creative space soon and begin planning certain things in earnest. Revenge not being the least of them.

Andrea had already put a few actions into motion. She had several dummy accounts buying stock in a very large company; small knives chipping away at the elephant. Not that she couldn't afford to go in wholesale, but this would lead to a greater long-term satisfaction and it would keep the rats from fleeing too soon. She intended to gift the whole to Miranda when it was time.

She wondered what kind of gift Emily might like, aside from Irv Ravitz's head on a pike.

She recalled that they had not parted on the best of terms, though she imagined the clothing she'd acquired during that last fashion week had arrived in a timely way. It might have soothed or annoyed. Knowing Emily, it most likely ended up some bizarre combination of both. Andrea did regret that they'd not been able to iron away the hurts before her leaving. The closeness that had been growing between them had been harmed by the timing of certain events.

But that was the past and things were much different now.

"Lisle, how soon until Emily's arrival?" She didn't have to shout the query. The office was designed to let her voice carry without the necessity of being overly loud. Andrea was not immune to the irony.

Lisle stepped into the office, tablet in hand. "They are on ground and en-route now. Barring traffic they should be here in twenty four minutes."

"Excellent. That gives me plenty of time to panic."

Lisle grinned at her Mistress.

-TDWP-

It was like atmospheric pressure change. Andrea was almost immediately aware of when Emily stepped into her realm. It wasn't just the fact that her neural interface pinged, but rather the distinct sound of her walk. And her voice, which carried outside of Andrea's office.

"Unhand me! I am perfectly capable of proceeding on my own to wherever it is you are taking me."

Andrea wondered, briefly, who had decided to pick that moment to manhandle Emily, then discarded it. No doubt she would find out soon enough. She glanced around her office to make sure that the breakables were on the far walls, and not anywhere near her or her desk. Then she did a brief scan of herself, making sure all was in order, before deliberately settling back to look as nonchalant as possible.

Miranda, she knew, was on her way. They had both agreed that while it might be useful to have them both there, for Emily's introduction, it would be better for her to see Andrea first. Then the editor. Not that the brunette expected Emily to just take everything at face value.

Though maybe she might surprise her. After all, it had been years since they'd seen one another.

Lisle breezed calmly into the office and offered a wink before saying, "Mistress, your guest has arrived." She offered a delicate grimace of amusement and a bow. "According to Tam, she's been a handful."

"Has she accused anyone of kidnapping?"

"Not yet, but I don't foresee it as out of the picture if things don't go as planned."

"Planned? Plans went out the window as soon as she stepped on the grounds. Just send her in."

"So glad it's you and not me." Lisle chirped in a whisper before moving away to do her duty.

As soon as Lisle opened the door again, a sleek redhead sailed in, powering past Lisle with hardly a glance. The bodyguards who were sent both as protection and as a means of convincing, trailed not far behind and more careful in their entrance. Andrea noted that Emily's taste in clothes had softened over the past five years, but that she still managed to hint at dangerous flair.

Lisle quickly took up position beside the the new arrival and through a fine act of body language, managed to indicate a place to stop. Somehow they arrived parallel, a few feet away from the desk, with the redhead settled between the blonde assistant and one of the bodyguards. The other bodyguard stepped back and turned slightly so they could observe both the entrance and what was going on in the office. "Ms. Emily Charlton, from the States, to see you, Mistress. Ms. Charlton, this is the Mistress of Maison de Sanctuaire. Andrea Six."

It was as if, until that very moment, Emily hadn't processed quite where she'd seen the other woman before. And then, she said, explosively, "You!"


	8. Chapter 8

TDWP: The Devil's Mistress Ch. 8

Despite her jokes with Lisle, Andrea had prepared for the moment. She deliberately allowed her body to relax, but kept her expression intimidating and neutral. "Ms. Charlton. You've traveled a long way. Please have a seat." She indicated a chair. It was not a light object, but one of the two identical guards promptly procured it and set it closer to Andrea's desk.

"Oh, it's going to be like that. I see. Fine. Ms. Six. Or do you have some other thing you'd rather have me call you." Emily's tone was aggravated. She grimaced, then glanced at the chair, then at Andrea and then at the chair again. She eyed the brunette narrowly, then, as if the act of sitting were suspicious in itself, she settled into the chair with cautious decorum.

"Respect to the Mistress," growled the Tams, which actually caused the redhead to look up and at the guards. Tams' expression was dark and compressed. Their jaws flexed dangerously. Their hands moved near batons at their belts.

"Thank you, Tam, but this is actually expected. Ms. Charlton and I have a prior acquaintance from a different time and are still in process of setting the rules. She is deserving of leeway.

The guards' gaze slid toward their Mistress in disbelief, and then at the redhead. They then settled back, but their hand still lingered dangerously near the handle of the baton. "As you wish."

"I do wish. Please remember that I have Ms. Charlton under guard for her safety; not because she has done anything wrong." Now the guard looked a touch startled, but they offered swift nods. Andrea said firmly. Then, "Lisle, please take the Tam brothers out to the waiting room for a moment. I am sure Ms. Charlton and I shall be perfectly safe in my office."

Lisle smiled and nodded, "Follow me please." The two guards, identical in features, height, breadth and width, and wholly muscular and dangerous, glanced at their Mistress to check. The brothers were not slaves, per se. They had been genetically engineered and grown to be the ultimate bodyguards; offshoot of a military project to create soldiers. They had found Andrea, rather than the other way around, and had offered themselves to her, which she had accepted in all the ways that meant. They were as much hers as any of the others, just differently so. New picture drawn, they now realized that Andrea had entrusted Emily into their care for a reason; an act of ultimate trust.

Andrea kept her gaze impassive and unworried, but inwardly smiled as she watched the reactions of the Tams. Then the two guards, attitude adjusted, glanced around the office as if they might find bogey men in the walls, as they followed Lisle out of the room, which allowed Andrea's shoulders to settle. Now she could focus and do what needed doing.

Emily, who turned in her chair to watch them exit, now returned her attention back to the woman on the other side of the desk. Her gaze slipped over the brunette, taking in features and style and changes with a canny eye. "That does bring me to why I was dragged from my home and bundled along on this trip..."

"Emily."

"Oh, so you do know me." Emily scooted forward in her chair. "I thought perhaps the reason you might..." her voice began to rise, "... never have called..." and her expression became more irate, "... is that you were dead!" The pitch never reached a squeal, but the emphasis was entirely obvious.

Andrea kept her voice low and calm, "To all intents and purposes."

That caused an inhale of a different kind of outrage, but despite that, the redhead continued, teeth clenched. "Intents and purposes. One call. One email..."

"I could not."

"Could not or would not. Were you in Witness Protection? Doubtful. I recognize I was perhaps slightly peeved with you..."

"Slightly?" Andrea smiled a tigerlike smile and scooted forward now, "You sent me packing out of your hospital room."

"You were going to Paris!" Emily's hands landed on Andrea's desk, flat palmed. She glared, knowing full well that Andrea knew what she meant.

"I did send you...," Andrea said, mollifying.

"Damn it, yes you did. And so I expected you back! I expected you back, so I could tell you how... much..." Emily's eyes misted, but her words were still biting, "... I had to take them in. You did that deliberately!"

"I thought you could stand to go up a size." Andrea let her eyes slide over Emily with appreciation. "I see you finally came to that awareness."

"Do not distract me from this tantrum with flattery. You know exactly why I am distraught! I didn't even get a chance to tell you how mad I was at you and you were dead! And I had to forgive you and you were Dead! Andrea!"

Andrea pushed back the chair and stood up, "I was enslaved Emily! I could not call you."

Emily drew back as if struck, going pale. "What kind of enslaved?" she demanded through clenched teeth.

"The worst kind," Andrea said, knowing the punch could not be pulled. But she did gentle it, "Then a better kind."

"Fuck."

"Well. Yes. Plenty of that. I was… altered for it."

"Do not... Do not!" The outrage was not at all directed at Andrea at that moment. It just was spilling over. Emily moved despite herself.

So did Andrea. "There is more."

"Well, of course there is. It's been years!" They were facing one another now, standing very close. Andrea opened her arms and Emily dropped into them, then wrapped her arms tightly around the brunette. "I was going to punish you."

"Ah, but that is my job now."

"Mistress then? For real." Emily sniffled, but her tone held the softer edge of amusement and amazement.

"Of an Empire. Just not necessarily a country."

"We learned from the best." Emily did not let go. Could not. Nor could she stop the sob from her voice.

"She's here," whispered Andrea. "She's safe. And on her way."

"It was you who wrote..."

"Yes. But the danger. I could not reveal who or where. We did not know who had done this to Miranda at the time. And the danger remains..."

"You did have me gathered." Emily pulled back, but only to glare a little, before dropping back into the embrace. Live Andrea was so much better than dead Andrea. "But not Nigel."

"He agreed to it. He was safer and we need someone inside." Andrea pulled back. "We tried to find Serena."

"She saw the wind blowing before I did. Took an extended leave to go see her family." Emily paused. "We broke up."

"Who are currently denying they've seen her. Broke up as in, because she was leaving or..."

"They would. There is a code word. And no, it was coming down the pike. I am, apparently, high maintenance. We're better as just friends. Blah blah." The hurt was genuine. "If she were to call, though..."

"Thank god. But we will check anyway. And, of course you are, but not any more than any other professional woman driven crazy by a demanding boss. If you want, we shall determine if it were just an excuse." Now it was Andrea who hugged Emily tighter. Then she let her go slowly. "Miranda was worried that..."

"Where is she?"

"On her way. But... Emily..."

The caution in Andrea's voice was enough to cause the redhead to pull back and gaze very seriously at the brunette. "What happened?"

"It's not just what happened, Emily. It's what is. And you may want to sit down."

"Now I know for sure I must not. Tell me and don't prevaricate."

"I found her in the Trade, Emily. Her and the twins." Andrea dropped the bombshell as gently as she could. "The girls were offered to me at top price, meaning they were freshly acquired, and as soon as I recognized them, I knew that something had happened to Miranda as well. She was in the process of transport to whomever had arranged it, but since she was not yet owned, I forced the seller's hand. I have them all, and they are safe."

It wasn't often that Emily grew so enraged that words failed. But she trembled in Andrea's arms. "And..."

"She... They are mine. By law and right and sundry details. In all the ways that means, Emily."

"And..."

"One of the reasons we had you picked up is that we were afraid they'd try it on you."

Tears were sliding down Emily's face. "And..."

"She's okay, but much changed. Like me."

"But is she herself?"

"Yes. Mostly."

"Mostly," Emily repeated, grimly.

"I should hope so. Andrea did time things well, for an unintended rescue," articulated a mechanical voice from behind them. The door clicked shut and the person speaking continued. "On the other hand, in a few hours I shall be more myself. To some extent." Emily jerked back out of the embrace and Andrea let her go.

The redhead spun around, teetering a bit. She took in the sight of the shapely woman at the door. She looked much younger, but it was the white hair and crystalline ice blue eyes that caused Emily's heart to hammer. "Miranda?"

"Perhaps I was not specific enou..." Before she could finish, before Emily even consciously registered what she was about to do, the Brit had shot forward and had wrapped her arms around the silver-haired woman.

"You are not ever to die again!" The redhead ordered as she clung tightly. She turned without quite letting go of Miranda. "And you either!"

"I shall see what I can do," Miranda said, trembling in the clasp. She gazed at Andrea, and then closed her arms around Emily. Andrea watched the emotional reunion quietly. They all knew that if the two women were anywhere else, neither of them would have let their guards down enough to express themselves so visibly. But if there was one thing that even Emily had been aware of, it was that, if indeed all of this was Andrea's, she would never let anything happen to Miranda that could affect her in a negative light. And for some inexplicable reason, especially in light of their mostly antagonistic work relationship, Andrea had always been on Emily's side. That knowledge gave both normally reserved women the freedom to express emotions that would otherwise have remained locked away. "I'm afraid the kidnapping was very hard to avoid."

Emily buried her head into crook of Miranda's neck and whimpered. "I am sorry I wasn't there. I am..."

"You could not have stopped it and it would only have meant that you would have been on the block with us." Miranda hugged Emily tighter. "As it is, I am and was very glad..." She drew back enough to look into the redhead's eyes and gave her a single gentle, affirming shake, "That you were not with us. I would have been devastated."

Emily caught her breath as her forehead was kissed gently. Then, inhaled in surprise as her lips were kissed, even more gently. "Miranda?"

"There is much to discuss, not the least of which is current status, how things stand and what it means... But first," Miranda led Emily back to the chair, "... You need to sit. And have something to drink." She cast a glance at Andrea, who accepted the signal and made a silent order, "... and we shall tell you what we know about who did this."

They were situated more comfortably by the time the explanations were coming to a conclusion. Emily had listened, once Miranda was there, in moderate silence. She had scooted her chair closer to the editor and would, at seemingly random times, touch very carefully and for nearly micro-seconds, as if to see if Miranda were indeed alive, real, tangible. It happened often enough that Miranda finally caught her hand by covering it with her own. Then she held it in a simple clasp, one neither too tight nor too soft.

At which point Emily started casting glances in Andrea's direction, assessing and distressed, but still silent.

The Mistress was reminded that the problem with Emily had never been a lack of emotion or even failure to show that emotion. It had been competitiveness in the work place, to maintain her most coveted spot as Miranda's right hand. None of which applied here.

"When do they take you in for surgery?"

"It's not quite as barbaric as knives and anesthetics these days. More of a, they stick you in a device and you come out newly formed." It was somewhat of a quip, but it made Emily shudder in anger.

"How long? Before you get out?"

"Dr. Montgomery has several things that must be done for me." Miranda glanced at Andrea.

"To you, you mean," the brunette said gently. "It only seems like forever, Emily, but in a few hours, Miranda will be out, if not necessarily fully functioning. She'll need to rest for a day or two."

"I would expect that." Emily said, drawing herself straight. "Is this something that can be observed?"

"Some of it, but not all. We do have observation stations at the medical center." Andrea did not mention how often she utilized the option.

"I would like to see then."

"Of course. We have been thinking of having you stay with us, would you consider it?"

"I have a choice?"

"You, Emily, may have worked for me, but have never been a slave." Miranda said gently, squeezing her hand. "And now, you do not work for me at all."

Again Emily's expression flared into a rage that wasn't directed at either of them. Her tones were clipped. "I choose, then, to stay with you." She looked at Andrea and tilted her chin. "Both of you, as the case is."

"There will be more to discuss then, but you are welcome. I will see to the arrangements." Andrea said.

Miranda gave Emily's hand a final squeeze and said, with surprising warmth, "You will enjoy your closet." She dared a teasing glance at her Mistress. "Andrea has staff with excellent taste."

"Hey!"

For some reason that reassured Emily in ways no other words might have.

The observation station was situated above the operation room. Emily gazed down through the unopaqued window. Her arms crossed in front of her belly as she watched the doctors move around their stations with precision. Miranda was suspended, upright in a tube, apparently unconscious and floating in a viscous fluid, with many lines and objects attached. Emily knew things weren't random, but seeing Miranda so vulnerable was still disturbing. Mechanical units seemed to flutter around Miranda to some purpose that only the physicians knew.

"Dr. Montgomery is the best."

"So Miranda said."

Andrea's lips quirked in a small smile. She stood close to Emily, aware of the random touches that had accompanied movement around the observation deck. She found it reassuring that the redhead was just as interested in Andrea's tangible reality as she had been in Miranda's.

Quiet had mostly dominated the space, but now that Miranda was fully in the session, the only thing to watch was the professionals at work.

Emily asked, without looking at Andrea, "How did it happen to you?"

"I haven't even told Miranda that."

"Does not change the question." Emily replied. "And we do have hours to while away."

"We do," said Andrea, who finally turned to look at the Brit. Emily's expression was tense and anxious. The Mistress exhaled. "Did Miranda ever talk to you about what happened before I... disappeared?"

"I had to write the report for the police."

"You had to... Oh." Andrea was oddly warmed. She didn't realize that a part of her had even wondered if Miranda had looked for her after. But of course she did. Of course. She had said so. But to hear it from Emily...

She turned back to look down at the woman who had changed her life in so many ways. "I look back now and realize she was just so relieved she had to share. And happy, because Runway was still hers."

"Before Irv managed to taint it."

"We will take care of him." Andrea said firmly. This time she took the other woman's hand in hers and gave it a squeeze, which was returned.

"Yes," hissed Emily. "We shall."

Andrea started to pull away, but the Brit held on, so she stopped. "She said something that upset me. So I needed some time away and, you know, I just couldn't go in and think with all that noise."

"They found your phone in a fountain."

"The people who took me, took my phone. My purse. Everything I had on me."

Emily nodded, her expression grim.

"Do you want to sit down?"

"Not yet." She nodded at the tank. "When the cover comes down, I'll be ready."

"Okay." Andrea exhaled. "I really hadn't gone that far, so you know. I wasn't intending to run away or anything like that. Though I was upset. The phone probably would have ended up in the fountain anyway, from that perspective."

Emily offered a mild laugh.

"It wasn't even that dark. It's just... one moment I was walking and the next, I felt this pain in my neck. When I woke up, I was..." Andrea cocked her head. "Well, you don't need to know that."

Emily turned to stare at Andrea and said, flatly, "What are you not telling me?"

"You already asked me not to tell you that part. So I will not. I will not hurt you that way. It's past and done."

Emily turned away now and stared hard at Miranda. "Something like this... it's not done just for kicks. And there are the willing and it just doesn't make sense, unless..."

"Someone was out to get me?"

"Yes."

"I've found that there are only a few ways this happens to the unwilling. And it is always expensive."

"Narrows some of it down, but who would ever...You were a … and now, don't take this the wrong way, Ms. Six."

Again, Andrea's lips twitched in amusement and she remembered one of the things she'd found attractive about the Brit. "I shant."

Emily clicked her tongue at Andrea, but continued. "You were not exactly a somebody."

"Until I was Miranda's assistant."

"Until."

"I had thought about that. The only other richest person I knew was Lily and she would never."

"Never?"

"No. Not in her nature."

"We didn't think so either."

"You looked very hard for me, didn't you."

Emily, still looking away, just nodded as she fought another sudden onset of tears.

"When I was found by my Mistress and released from certain programming, I was finally able to think on the topic in a sensible way. I came to the conclusion that there was a very short list of possibilities. All of them targeting, not myself, but Miranda. I also came to a conclusion that I might not have been the original target. With that in mind, I quickly realized then that, for me, it did not matter who had done it." Andrea stepped closer and this time turned Emily to face her. She wiped the slow tears away gently. "In that moment, the only thing that mattered was that, like Miranda, I was so very grateful that it was me and not you."

Emily crumpled, finally. Andrea drew her in and held her, for a very long time.

"We managed to get the blocks successfully removed. I have her undergoing most of the major reprogramming while she is still recovering, so that all you have to do is the command level stuff. She will have full use and range of her language capabilities," Addison said, as she gave them the immediate run down. She glanced at both Emily and Andrea, seeing them not as separate interested parties, but as equal partners, even though she had just met the Brit. The undercurrents were definitely there, and for all intents, they were a united front for Miranda. "I'll have the full feature list for you, Andrea, when she can report it.

"The basic slave commands have been hard-coded to your voice pattern, Andrea, so now Joe Anyone can't just go around giving her orders. We enabled the fight back protocols. You'll want to get her in the gym so she can train up to them. Physically, she'll be just peachy, definitely primed and ready in a day. The standard stay-healthy nannites are and were fully activated, so that is a plus and will help speed recovery. Her sexual features clock is now at," Addison looked at the clock and then the two of them, "... two and a half hours, with the standard one week limit.

"Feature 17 was tricky, tricky. They set some serious modifications. She only has a short range of options up the scale because of some serious hard-coding and dangerous safeguards. I didn't dare touch it until I can get a specialist to take a look. Which, of course, I can't do until you get whatever the hell this situation is, straightened out. As you know, Andrea, she was at seven, which means that whatever they had planned, they wanted it to hurt her in more ways that merely the physical. It barely avoided mindless compulsion, and left only enough that she retained a sense of self and, of course, the usual problems of prolonging denial. We've raised it to four, but that's as far as we can go." Andrea narrowed her eyes and was about to argue, but Addison held up her hand. "Be sure to remind her that denial of needs on any level is a bad idea. We got her to a four, but when we tried to get higher, those damn safeguards started to trigger. Like I said, I didn't want to take any chances. I've never seen anything like it. Obviously, whoever did this had no desire for her to have the capacity to monitor and adjust her own hours. But from a capacity and normalcy perspective, a level four Feature 17 is completely manageable given the time frame.

"As long as she stays on schedule, and has the list of healthy and acceptable candidate partners and I assume your personal willing access, everything will be fine." Emily blinked, and her expression narrowed at the doctor-speak and the obvious implications, but she did not otherwise say a word. Addison continued, "Also, we can expand the hours later, up to two weeks, with some neural programming, so that part is non-invasive. We did some minor fixes and she's still fully functional."

Addison, flipped the chart page. Andrea was aware that she was simplifying and would provide more detail later. "You need to be aware that she can procreate, either way. We have established a basic prophylactic inhibitor, for the phallus. It won't neutralize the actual ejaculation, which you can expect to be about the usual copious amounts, given the standard programming." Addison glanced at the Mistress with only the slightest shake of her head and Andrea just offered a smirk in return. It was another of those physical fantasy features that were notoriously ubiquitous among those who had been bioengineered. Emily suddenly had questions, but held her peace, if not her expression. "We expect her to be a multiple, based on the programming, which was not reversible, so plan accordingly." Andrea nodded, and eye-promised to explain it later to Emily. "The count, however, should be neutral or close to zero, unless you or Miranda request otherwise. Her egg count was regenerated with the original bioengineering, but the inhibitor was already active there. Given the discovery, we can guess that whoever made the original request had some plans for motherhood, for themselves or someone not Miranda, it looks like, so, that's a motivation to consider while you figure out who was doing what."

Andrea growled low in her throat, but Emily just grabbed her hand and squeezed it.

Addison was not oblivious, but ignored it as she continued. "Andrea, I know you've probably already got an idea of who is behind this. When you find them, smack them down hard. You were right about the trap. They intended her to hurt. We readjusted the phallus nerves and the bio interface so she will experience pleasure, rather than pain, guaranteed."

This time it was Emily's turn to, if not growl, express extreme non-verbal displeasure.

But Andrea was exhaling in relief. "Thank god they didn't try it."

"Who didn't try what?" Emily demanded.

"Jayden and Miranda. Jayden's our toy expert. She loves them and they did have plans. But, we now know it would have been excruciating for both of them. Miranda, because it would have hurt and Jayden, because it would have hurt Miranda."

"I see. She is on this... 'playmate' list?"

"Yes."

"I will want an introduction as immediately as possible. I will want to see the list. Will I approve?" Andrea might have, before they'd entered the room, argued that it was none of Emily's business, but instead she nodded. After all, Emily was on the list too.

"You will. Jay has her priorities straight. So to speak." Andrea let go of the armrest she'd been clenching with her other hand. The only reason the indentations disappeared was that the armrest was of the puffy sort. The brunette was ready to move on. Anything else she could read in the paperwork. "When can we take Miranda home?"

"I'd like to keep her here another six hours, just to make sure she wakes up okay and all the stats are what they should be. She rests and recuperates tonight and tomorrow day. No heavy lifting. No heavy pushing." And now Addison pointed and for emphasis shook her finger at both of them. "No sex. Twenty four hours." She dropped her hand. "Report any weirdness otherwise. Headaches, body aches. She should feel otherwise fine, good enough to hug, but not enough to fool around."

"I do get the message." Andrea said.

"Do you?" Addison's firm gaze swung from one woman to the other.

Emily blinked as she realized that was being included in the no sex command and unconsciously straightened in her seat. "Of course."

"Good. I'll make sure Miranda gets the message too." Addison's smile reached her eyes. "We'll send some medication for any swelling, that sort of thing. We tried to be as unobtrusive as possible, but pain is pain. Now," Addison paused to see if they had any questions, but like most worried loved ones, they really only wanted to get Miranda home so they could hover. "I'll send the rest of the report in the paperwork, Andrea. You two go home and rest so she can be greeted by people who don't look like they've been dragged through hell. Go. Shoo. Out."


	9. Chapter 9

TDWP: The Devil's Mistress Ch. 9

Sleep was easier than Emily expected. The bed was very comfortable, the pillows more so. But the sleep was actually more a result of long, long worrisome days, which had been very strangely alleviated and aggravated at the same time in the space of a few short, amazing hours. She slept dreamlessly, clutching one pillow to her body. Andrea had promised to wake her and Emily trusted that promise.

She woke to a gentle shake and a soft, "It's time. Do you still want to get up?"

Emily rolled over, sleepiness still pressing on her. "Yes. Of course. I've had less sleep for fashion weeks."

"Ahh, but this is not fashion week, and Miranda will most likely still be asleep anyway." Andrea said. "You can rest a little more if you wish."

"No." Emily was adamant. She threw off her covers and swung her legs off the bed. "I want to see her now."

She could practically feel Andrea's smile, though she could not see it. "I'll wait for you then."

They entered the comfortable recovery room, leaving their guard at the doorway. Despite the safety of the compound, Andrea was unwilling to chance the girls anywhere without escort, even home, until everything was resolved. The room was semi-dark, with a few soft lights strategically placed to provide illumination for the caretaker and any guests. It could be brighter, but Miranda was still in a medical doze and the center's philosophy included a form of coziness for their guests, including and most importantly, the patients. The Mistress heartily agreed with Dr. Montgomery on that particular topic.

Andrea pushed two small redheads forward. She said, quietly, "Go on. Addison says she'll be awake soon and I think she'd be thrilled to see you first." Carolyn grabbed Cassidy's hand then and the two girls moved further into the room. They were soon by the bed, one to each side, where they anxiously peered at their mother. Both girls waited, hands clutching the bed covers, by, but not on, their mother's hands.

To Andrea's relief, Miranda was only minimally attached to monitoring devices, which meant no unnecessary scary images for the girls. Or for that matter, herself. She and her Brit companion stepped further into the room, and also took up positions near the bed. Andrea considered kissing Miranda, to see if that would wake her. It amused her to think it, but Addison had been very specific about the time that older woman would awaken. It would have nothing to do with anything she had done and Andrea had given up many of the more pleasant illusions of life in favor of what was real or true. She still stopped at fresh bloomed roses though, so not all that was mystic was lost, merely resettled within.

She placed a hand on Cassidy's shoulder and the young girl leaned back a little, as if drawing strength. Emily, observant as she always was, mirrored the effort and was rewarded with a similar trust.

They waited then, a few more moments, in quiet companionship and support. Then, as if morning had arrived, though it was actually evening, Miranda inhaled and stretched. Her hands flexed, so fingertips touched.

She didn't even have to open her eyes. The smile said it all. "Bobsies."

It would have been like trying to hold back tsunami. The girls clambered up on the bed, unbidden, but not unwelcome. Blue eyes opened, and brightened, even as her arms were pulling in the girls for a fuller embrace and mom to daughter kisses. That completed, the fashion maven said, with delicate warmth, "Hello, Andrea. Emily."

The sound of Miranda's voice slid over her spine, and Andrea couldn't resist then. She had forgotten how much she missed that sultry, wonderful, sound. It was too much. She could not crawl up with them, but she did move forward. She grasped Miranda's face in her hands and kissed her, once and deeply. She shivered with relief. "Welcome back."

Miranda smiled to Andrea, who returned it in full. Then the older woman turned her attention to Emily, who was hanging back. Miranda's expression turned just the shyest edge of stern and her eyebrow cocked. "Well?"

Emily gasped, then moved forward with alacrity. She slowed only to check once, just once, before also grasping Miranda's face and kissing her, like she meant it. She pulled back, a little shocked at herself, but the older woman snagged her hand and kept her close.

Miranda leaned back on the pillows, like a queen at rest. "Much better."

From Miranda's perspective, the prohibition against heavy lifting did not include accessing the network and pursuing some lines of inquiry, once she was home. Andrea's foresight had provided a studio space that worked as a post operation refuge. She wasn't ready to go back to sleep yet, though had promised to go to bed at a reasonable hour. The twins had already been tucked into bed for the night and were asleep, reassured that their Mother would be home when they awakened.

Emily, though still fatigued, chose to stay in the studio to assist, in whatever way Miranda might need. At the moment she puttered, trying to find her mental place in the scheme of things. She arranged various objects on the desk while she watched with grim amazement as the wall monitors flipped through media, web and otherwise, in quick succession as Miranda information gathered. There was no remote control. The editor's expression was intense and focused. Occasionally, she would move a hand and information would change, but that was the only obvious physical interaction between herself and the networked content.

Emily worked quietly, setting things in order. Once she had things set the way she thought Miranda might need them, she gathered up the files that Andrea's Lisle had thoughtfully provided and prepared to read.

One file was labeled Irv. The other was labeled Jacqueline.

When the Brit read those labels, she had to deliberately turn away from where Miranda might observe her reactions; most of which involved a cascade of enraged shaking. She managed to hold the files close, to keep them from rattling in her grasp and then, when she felt more in control, began to flip through them and read some of the content. Clipped to the folder were small data units, which she knew would have even more damning evidence. She committed to going through those files too.

She wished Andrea was there to talk to at that moment, or that she felt more comfortable approaching Miranda on the topic. But she still felt less of an equal, so much as a … she didn't know what. Guest wasn't exactly correct, as she suspected that her ex-coworker would not permit her to just leave. But neither was prisoner.

It seemed that it was either friend or Mistress. Either might apply, depending.

Whatever the case, Andrea had duties and so the Mistress was off for a moment, seeing to a matter involving her domain. She promised to return quickly as they all knew there were things that needed to be discussed. They had yet to really sit down and talk about "the list," or the other aspects of Miranda's transformation and the implications. Emily expected that they would eventually have the conversation. It was a case, she thought, of first things first and also distraction.

And Miranda...

She was still herself, but there was an unexpected softness that Emily was not entirely sure how to address. Nor did she know if it were something especially directed at herself or an effect of all the changes. Not that she did not appreciate the gentler side. Emily simply wasn't used to it and found it distracting. She did not know the rules of approach.

"Have you learned anything interesting?" Miranda inquired, without looking away from the monitors. She was leaning on the outside edge of the desk, arms folded across her chest. She was dressed in pajamas, top and bottom. The accompanying robe was on one of the other seats, currently unneeded. Her feet were bare, slippers unnecessary because of the carpet.

"Only that Irv is exactly as bad as I thought, but Jacqueline..." Emily, who was dressed in a dark skirt and light blouse, but in her stockings, (heels had been left at the door), slapped the folders back onto the desk in fury, "... is an unexpected evil. I had no idea, Miranda. I would never have let her near you, at any time, if I had known."

Miranda's attention turned from the research to the ex-assistant, ex-art editor, and utterly loyal Emily. "Hence, unexpected. Not that you could prevent it. At a party we must all take our chances."

"Droll." Emily acknowledged, daring. "You'll probably want to look at the data Andrea's assistant has gathered. The money trail alone is fascinating and terrifying."

Miranda leaned over, and brushed her fingers over the manila files. And she sighed, with a slight relief. "At least it was not Stephen."

"He might be a lawyer, but he, apparently has a soul."

"Yes. Well. Our marriage started well enough, but expectations of change caused conflict. If I had not let it get so far, it's possible the divorce would have been more amicable, but I clung to the hopeless idea that I could make it work." Miranda's lips curved in self-depreciation. "Now I am changed. I wonder if he'd find it any more acceptable. He might like the new me. Or be terrified."

"Miranda."

"Still many things to be discovered, Emily." The older woman's gaze warmed. "I am glad you are here, even if it is inconvenient for you."

"Death would be inconvenient for me," the redhead replied. "Or whoring out, which is the direction that things were heading in. HR has been utterly useless and cowardly since the conservatives did away with the keep-your-hands-off-my-ass laws." Emily huffed. "All in the guise of equality. Hah. What are your plans?"

"Recovery, discovery, and destruction of my enemies." Miranda's grin was a delightful mask of malice and drew a real smile from Emily in silent reply. The diva pointed at the monitor. "I think things have already been set in motion. Andrea is moving behind the scenes, if the stock portfolios are any evidence. It's like watching a megalithic shark circle a helpless diver. I am quite awestruck, actually."

"Beg pardon."

Miranda smirked a little. "Lisle was kind enough to tune me in to some information. Our Andrea is not penniless, Emily. Far, far from it. "

"I was beginning to gather."

"We should be grateful she uses her power for... mostly good. Tell me," Miranda slid until she was sitting on the desk, and she folded one leg primly over the other. She placed her hands on her knees. "What do you think of Runway, right now?"

Emily would rather do almost anything than have that conversation, but it was Miranda asking and her expression... was … surprisingly open.

"I miss the old one."

Miranda nodded. "I'm not sure we could get it back." She glanced back at the screens. "I'm not sure we should even try to rescue it at this point. On the other hand. It is Runway and I do love it. But, it needs... a serious blooding I think, for the purposes of recreation. Perhaps Jacqueline will be good for us after all. Temporarily. But I just... can't leave Irv where he can molest the models. They have jobs to do and he drives down the worth of the product with his sliminess."

"I can't disagree about Irv." Emily said carefully, then decided to step into the tiger's teeth. They were so pretty after all. "I'm not sure I agree about Jacqueline. If only because I hate her so very much and the thought of her touching anything that is yours..."

Miranda chuckled and it sounded cold and dire and black. "She intended to touch me. Oh, my but did she intend to touch me. Andrea, I believe, feels very much as you do. Perhaps with more loathing attached, as she knows quite personally what was intended for me. Not to belittle your despising, but we are talking an intimate understanding."

"I...know." Emily considered whether she should say anything of her conversation with Andrea, but it was such a personal topic. Fortunately, Miranda simply took her words as intended. She continued the thought...

"Despite our desire to see Jacqueline punished, there are priorities. I am thinking of the magazine at just this moment. And, technically, my Emily, Runway does not belong to me. Not truly. It never did. But..." She waved gently at the numbers that were rapidly changing in one corner of one of the screens. "I do wonder what the future holds."

"Do you plan on having Nigel shoot you the Book? Just for curiosity's sake?"

Miranda outright grinned, then shook her head. "No. I don't think Andrea would permit that, just yet. She would count it as work and I suspect she's had me on the equivalent of vacation for the last... few days. Despite everything."

Emily's jaw dropped, then she shook her head. So much of that she couldn't even begin to address. She chose the simplest reaction, which was also true, "Vacation?"

"Mm. Yes. She's had me walking around doing almost nothing, but I now understand there was a reason. Partly because I had to recover from what was done to me. Partly I needed extra time to think. She pointed out to me that, once certain parameters were reset, I would find my thought process clearing and becoming quite speedy, and my ability to access that time would be enhanced. I think she was also aware that by necessity, my attitude towards some of my past activities might have changed."

"And?"

"I do have some new priorities and it has become clear to me that I must not waste time in failing to pursue that which interests me." Miranda waved her hand at the monitors, "Aside from ruining Irv and Jacqueline." The silver-haired woman leaned closer to the red-head. "Among them is you."

Now Emily blinked. "Uhm."

"Would it help if I pointed out, again, that you do not work for me, and have no requirement to stay with me?"

Emily went still. "Are you going to send me away."

"Only if you want to go."

"No."

"Good. Andrea mentioned that you might have heard some very interesting information about me."

"She did?"

"Mm. You heard of the list?"

Emily's expression darkened. "Yes. Among other things. We were supposed to talk about it more..."

"Did Andrea mention that I made a specific request?"

"We never had a chance to really discuss much, after. Dr. Montgomery insisted we rest."

Amusement glazed Miranda's expression. "I do like Addison. We have much in common." She then laid her palm over Emily's "I requested one other person be added to the list. One specific person."

"Oh?"

"You."

"OH!"

Miranda settled back in one of the more comfortable chairs and gazed at Emily, who was saying "I just have difficulty believing..." The redhead, also sitting, but not in the way of Miranda's view, waved her hand vaguely. "... all of this."

"It is a bit much to take in," the older woman replied and then sipped from her mug. "But I have a number and so do my children and Andrea purchased us." She exhaled and set the mug down, "Fortunately for all of us. There is no point in going into denial about it and difficulty is not the same as disbelief. If it makes you feel any better, I think you've been given much less time to adapt to the idea than I was."

"She assumed you would be okay if I saw your medical records."

"You are still one of my emergency contacts, Emily. It was a logical conclusion. Plus," Miranda's brow arched, "I gave her permission. We both thought it might make things... clearer, for you. You were always someone who appreciated the tangible. It is a trait that contributes to what makes you an excellent art editor."

Another woman would have basked in the praise. Emily was still stewing. "Why are you being so..."

"We are at home Emily. You are, if you desire to be so, a part of my … chosen... family. I am still choosing my partners, just so you are aware. Andrea was quite blunt about the necessity and I believe her. Now. But I have never been...one to randomly pick people. I make quick choices. It is not the same."

"I know that. But I am not sure how I feel about... Are you so sure that you want me then? We have never discussed it. Never dated. And you may be assuming something from some action I have taken, but..."

Miranda considered, then said, "I have a secret weapon. Still, here is the test. If I asked you to come to bed with me tonight, what would you say?"

"Can't. Dr. Addison said." Emily sat back now, tucking her legs under herself, suddenly more comfortable.

Miranda smirked, and let her amusement show. "She did not say anything about me watching you while you sleep. Or holding you in my arms. Or...you must begin to think in broader terms, Emily."

"You don't know if I am the type to share."

"When I told you what our Andrea was accomplishing, you did not blink, nor pause at the use of the word "our". Your eyes dilate when you think of her. And when you think of me. If I mentioned that I looked forward to seeing you both tangled up in one another..."

Emily flushed, exhaled.

"You would share. With the right persons." Miranda handed the words to Emily as fact, without one smirk. "I don't expect you to sleep with everyone on my list, regardless. It's my list, for my wants and, more importantly, my specific needs. Andrea, I am sure, has quite a list of her own. It is a drawback of what we have been forced to become. You'll have to construct your own. Or not. I certainly am not going to demand or beg or force you, my dear."

"I did not think that..."

Miranda raised her hand. "I only offer the opportunity. But, know this, right now. It's a lifetime commitment. No divorce, not even symbolic. I'm quite done with those. And even then, even if all you chose, was to be my friend, I would find infinite value in it."

"Friend."

"It's not like I have that many, Emily."

"I, well... Nigel."

"Care to try to count more?" Miranda lifted her mug again. "Then again, I'd never sleep with Nigel."

"He's a man. But you wouldn't have a problem with that."

"I have always enjoyed the fact that humanity is made up of many genders. One can not work in our industry without at least a basic appreciation. And now that I find I..." Miranda's jaw clenched. She shook her head and then shifted the topic a little less sideways, "Whatever my preferences or orientation or whatever people call it these days, I never tried to define it for myself. It never seemed necessary. However, Nigel is unequivocally gay. And not flexible around that issue. It would offend his sensibilities and wound him if I tried."

Emily did not quite gawk, but her picture of things, her idea of her world was rapidly changing.

"Wait a minute. You'd make that choice for him. But what about ..."

"One must make the distinction between the personal and business. I've made similar choices about you." Miranda sipped, watching Emily carefully. Then she said, keeping her tone most carefully even, "Would you prefer that I woo you, Emily? I suppose my directness could be seen as off-putting. I am not used to doing the pursuing, and I know you enjoyed your outings with Serena, but thought you would prefer clarity from me."

"I would. I mean, I do. It's..." Emily looked out the doorway and then back at Miranda, "... steadying. Honestly, a date can happen at any time, and I am... I have … It is more than admiration, Miranda, that has kept me close."

"You didn't take the position at Vogue."

"You knew about that."

"There is... was... very little in my domain that I was unaware of. For instance, I recall when Serena made her first appearance, you were quite snippy with her. Almost as much as Andrea." Emily's eyes widened. "It was fascinating to watch you fight your attraction for the 'fat girl.'"

"I was not alone in that fight."

"No. You weren't. But we are not speaking of me."

Quiet descended then as they both spent time considering the things that had been said or left unsaid. A few minutes passed, then Miranda said, "You should go get some rest. And so, technically, should I. It seems Andrea will be occupied a little longer. Lisle just sent me an alert. I'll close things down here. Come kiss me good night, if you want. Then that's all."

Emily stared at Miranda for a few seconds, and before any caustic remarks could make their way and spoil the pleasanter aspects of their conversation, she finally stood. Then she walked over to Miranda, took the cup from her hands and set it down, and grasped the woman's face between her hands.

She gazed down at Miranda for several seconds and the older woman allowed the search. Then she tugged on Emily's shirt. The younger woman's head dipped and their lips pressed together. The kiss warmed, but before it could gain true speed, Emily drew back. She looked as if she were tempted to say something, but apparently changed her mind.

Then, trusting Miranda, she left.

Time had wound full circle and this time, as Emily lay in the bed, one pillow curled under her arm and clutched to her chest and the other pillow snug against her cheek, she found sleep more elusive. She dozed, but the deeper aspect that brought with it dreams and inner quiet, seemed to hover just on the edge of waiting. It was as if there were some piece she was trying to fit together, but her mind was too busy to see it.

She let herself use the restfulness, thinking and contemplating about what she knew and did not yet know, about the circumstances that had brought her here. Despite Andrea's kind thoughts, and Emily did know they were kind, she did not expect Serena to change her mind. The Brit had come to a hard won peace regarding the blonde's decision and beliefs about herself and she had wondered, after all, if perhaps the greater mistake had been that they had both worked at Runway with its tremendous demands. Though, they both thrived and it would have killed them to give it up.

Emily shifted, fluffing the pillows into something more comfortable and deliberately tried to calm her mind, reminding herself that was all past and the topic... was now. Miranda in the now. Incredible Miranda who... in that brilliant way of hers, had cut through what normally would have been months of back and forthing, with precise and simple offers.

Not demands.

Which made the whole thing much different and much more dangerous.

Emily, whose heart was still bruised, could truly find the greater wound, here. Regardless of which choice she made. Though, like any good bet, one portion promised greater value in return.

She deliberately evened out her breathing, tried to think nothing thoughts.

Then, in the distance, she heard the muffled noise of heels on the floor. She recognized the tempo, counted the paces. She had never told anyone, but her ability to hear and distinguish between clackers had always been a secret weapon. It was how she always knew when Miranda was arriving or departing. Then, exhaling, she thought, "Andrea," and a mental picture formed and drew her finally into restful sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

TDWP: The Devil's Mistress Ch. 10

Lisle sat down at the breakfast table at her Mistress' insistence. Jayden had arrived earlier bearing the gift of fresh bagels. Miranda was already up, but Emily was still in the land of recovery from jet lag. Carolyn and Cassidy helped by carrying the serving dishes, laden with food to the table, and then settled in to join the others. They had already made "deliveries," to the guards outside the door.

Andrea's cooking was a rare treat and one to be enjoyed. The gathering was quickly becoming festive. Those already at the table began helping themselves. This did not yet include Miranda, who was in the kitchen watching Andrea with not a little awe.

She had asked, earlier. "Wasn't your boyfriend the cook?"

"Many, many moons ago." Andrea had said, using her spatula for emphasis. "However, I am a much different woman now. I gained skills."

"Point."

Andrea had nodded firmly, and returned her attention to what she was doing, which allowed Miranda to watch her with a growing appreciation. No movement was wasted and each choice was quite deliberate. It was actually quite peaceful. "I could help."

Andrea had turned to grin at her, briefly, before saying, "One of us is still recuperating. Nope, you get to be pampered and do a lot of near nothing."

"Frying bacon and scrambling eggs is hardly heavy lifting..."

"Darling, it's not about the lifting. It's about the opportunity to make you breakfast."

"Ah." Miranda lifted a hand and waved it mock-dismissively, "Well, then. Proceed."

-TDWP-

Emily woke to a sensation of glorious change. It made her feel a little off, but in a good way. She stretched, inhaling deeply.

She smelled coffee and food, and felt like having some. That was unusual, but really, the wonderful feeling was much more than that. For the first time in weeks she felt rested, able to face a day without the fear of tears, rage, or being overwhelmed by travesty and the horrible realization that she had to maintain face before all dangers. For the first time, in a much longer time than that, her universe felt fresh with potential. For the first time, she had sure awareness that her mind had not been playing a long game of wishful thinking. Miranda had always been aware.

Wow.

The redhead's estimation of her … ex-boss..., gods that hurt in so many ways, but she was a woman who faced things head on... her estimation of Miranda has risen to greater heights.

Not that she had the older woman on a pedestal, though she had been accused of it more than once. Emily was aware of Miranda's flaws. She simply saw them as also being part of what made the other woman great, in both stature and personally. Not all love or worship was blind, merely... accepting.

And yes, acceptance was a trait that Emily shared with Andrea, at least in regards to Miranda.

On the other hand, given what she was learning about Ms. Six, perhaps she might do well to set aside earlier perceptions. They might share more in common than Emily first considered.

The redhead rolled out of bed and considered her bare... everything. She glanced around, spotted the clothes that had never quite made it to hamper or chair and she realized she must have been more tired than she'd first thought. Still, whatever changes in relationship might be ahead, she could not go out starkers, and a shower would do a world of good. If the food wasn't there when she finished, so be it. Emily intended to present her best face to the world, one that might even smile a bit.

-TDWP-

Emily knew she'd made the correct choice as soon as she entered the dining area. It did appear that the feast, which apparently it was, was for the most part over, but people were speaking convivially, including the children.

"Emily." Andrea stood up, walked toward her and then took her by the hand. "We've got a plate saved for you. Though, if you would like, I can make something else..." She began leading the art editor to a chair.

"Whatever you are serving is fine, thank you." The redhead cast a glance at Lisle, who lifted a cup of coffee in warm salute, and then her gaze traveled to a shorter, much more colorful person. That individual watched her with an arched brow and folded arms, expression serious, as if weighing and measuring and then, as if Emily's being had been assessed in mere heartbeats, the woman lunged left. Working at Runway had taught the Brit how to be calm in a crisis and so, despite being startled, she managed to take her seat with some aplomb. Meanwhile, the hoyden was teasing the twins, tickling one and then the other. The peals of laughter rang through the dining room.

Andrea leaned in and whispered in Emily's ear, "That would be Jayden. She goes by Jay. She is a random element. Enjoy!"

Emily finally cast a glance at Miranda, who merely offered a smile and an arch of a brow, as if daring the Brit to make a comment. The redhead considered, arched a brow back with as much self-assurance as she could put into it, much to Miranda's amusement, and then she proceeded to tuck into her meal.

-TDWP-

Addison's recommendation of rest and recuperation was gently enforced. The girls enjoyed the time spent with their mother and their new friends. They did not lack for entertainment or company. Andrea worked some, as did Lisle, which meant they left the abode. But Emily and Jayden stayed to make sure that all went well and needs were seen to.

While Miranda was healing rapidly, she did experience moments where her body needed rest and insisted on it. She slept through half of a movie, ate voraciously when she awakened, and then needed another nap at a pivotal point during a board game.

Jayden was the one who led her to the bedroom, but it was Emily who slid in beside her and held her, just as her eyelids closed. Her senses told her many things, but the most important was trust and so she did. When she awakened, she was hungry again, but held still, enjoying the restfulness of the moment.

She knew the instant the Brit awakened; not because the younger woman stiffened, but just in the sense of presence. And also, the momentary uninhibited caress along her back was a good indication. "I'd say good morning," Emily said, "But I am sure it is afternoon now."

"Yes," Miranda replied. "Forgive me for stealing your day."

"Hardly stolen. Restful, which has been... odd, and unexpected, but good. I don't think I realized I needed a nap, until I had one. Fully expected to stay awake."

Miranda smiled, felt a warmth in her heart. She pushed herself up and touched Emily's cheek with her fingertips and then her lips; which led to another kind of kiss, one that was softly insistent and compelling, but only so far.

Emily, mindful of warnings, was able to pull away. Her gaze was stormy and revealed a well-spring of desire. "Mustn't." She couldn't help rising to another kiss, and pulled back again, "Really."

Miranda exhaled and pulled away slowly, well aware of the truth. "Well, if I can't kiss you, then you must feed me."

"Again?"

"It's the nanites." Andrea approached from the door, which had only recently opened.

Neither of the women on the bed were terribly surprised, both had been aware for different reasons. She sat down on the edge of the bed, closest to Emily. Then continued the thought, "It's part of the process. What it tells me is that there was much that needed healing, even with Addison's care. Not worrisome, since we were told what to expect. Just a necessity." She smiled softly at them. "I've been sent to fetch you. The girls, with the help of Jay, have fixed a meal."

"They have?" Miranda looked a little surprised, but pleased.

"I promise it is not peanut butter sandwiches. Though right now that does sound good."

"Right now," Miranda said, as she sat up, "Anything sounds good. I'll eat food burnt, if that's how it is served."

Andrea smiled, leaned to Miranda and kissed her, enjoying the sleek heat of it. When she pulled back, she looked Emily, who was still reclining and leaned, moving slowly to give the other woman a chance to pull away. She did not. Their kiss was soft, warm, and spoke of possibilities.

"Come to dinner then," Andrea said as she pulled back.

-TDWP-

The day passed by peacefully and settled squarely into night. Lisle brought a message for the Mistress. Andrea grimaced, "The timing could be better, but at least it's tomorrow. I will be there."

"I would like to see what you do," Miranda said quietly, when an opportune moment arrived. "I can not function in your world if I don't understand it. You want to protect me, which I appreciate, but how long can you split your attention between what you want me to see and what you are?"

"Miranda..."

"You have Jason listed among those you trust, though I spotted a notation by it, expressing ambivalence. I understand in general what it is he does. I do not judge it."

Andrea turned away for a moment, pondering her own hesitation. In some ways the girls had seen more of the Mistress in her full aspect than Miranda and she found that she worried about what her lover might think. It was one thing to discuss, but quite another to experience.

"Do you think I, of all people, will judge you?"

Andrea considered and turned back. "No, Miranda, I do not. I think you understand, or will. Certainly you know what it takes to hold onto power and respect it. I have understood that for awhile now. But I have been careful in my introduction of you to my world, first because of my respect for you. Second, because you have held reins of power for a long time. Such a thing is not easy to let go of, or forget, and there are habitual responses to consider."

"Habit?"

"Even in nothing more than your shift, Miranda, it took effort for some of my minions to avoid bowing to you. You carry yourself a particular way. As do I. But you must remember this is not Runway, and while you may rank very high in my estimation, and by association, in status, you must stay aware that you represent me. Not the other way around. You must be careful how you treat those under my care and authority." She exhaled. "You must also be very, very careful how you address those who are only associated nominally with me. I have... people whose interests do not necessarily coincide with my own."

"Enemies? You?"

Andrea's smile held teeth. "Oh. I might prefer a different word for it, but yes. And then there are just those who enjoy participating in the scene, or watching, or who have other ambitions."

"I understand. Or, rather, I believe I do. But as you say, habit. I can only do so much."

"Thus, this discussion."

"But it still does not address my original point. If you hide from me, I can not help you. I can not be all that I could be for you. I am, as you point out, a woman of power in certain circles. I have areas of expertise. But I can't apply them or know my place entirely, without the correct context. And you can't protect me adequately, if that is indeed that is what you are saying, if I do not see the world of which you speak."

Andrea stepped close, gazing into remarkably serene blue eyes. "Tomorrow then."

-TDWP-

They arrived on time, escorted by the Tams and Jayden, whose usual puckish behavior was definitely muted. Emily blinked in astonishment as Miranda looped an arm through Jayden's as they walked. "You seem worried."

Jayden glanced up, drawing the taller woman closer. "I am a little. But I think you'll be fine. Just don't let people spook you."

Miranda peered down at her friend, eyes alight with a touch of danger. "Jayden. People don't spook me. I spook them."

"Maybe in your old life," Jayden acknowledged, "but this is a different world."

"We shall see." Miranda sniffed, appearing unconcerned.

-TDWP-

Miranda paused at the entryway to the main presentation ground and took time to absorb what she was observing. She eyed the sanded floor of the small arena, noted that the sand was clean, but was obviously there for a purpose. She noted tall stakes, set evenly apart and pegged down securely, with large stainless steel hoops attached to their core. The rings would move, she thought, up and down the pike, and perhaps in a swinging motion in response to any pull. She spotted other equipment, some on wheels, just on the periphery, not quite in the arena, but near - as if ready to be used. She noted tables, some filled with interesting objects and others, long enough to hold a body, quite empty.

"Most of the equipment is actually in one of the rooms near the passageway over there," Jayden pointed out the shadowed entry to the other passage helpfully. "Can't have all the goodies out at one time."

"Everything is portable?"

"Mostly. Some people like variety in the scenes."

"The lighting is quite good." Emily commented.

"It gets a little darker during a scene, hides the audience, but focuses on participants."

"It would make for an interesting photoshoot," Miranda offered.

"Oh. We've had plenty of those, believe me." Jayden grinned impishly. "When you get a chance, check the network for Triple Six. You'll see what I mean."

"Oh my god." Emily turned and stared at the younger woman, then blushed furiously when she spotted an arched brow. She couldn't quite figure out how to change the subject, but she really wanted to.

"I take it you know what this means?" Miranda queried, watching Emily's reaction with both fascination and amusement.

"They have … certain items of apparel and... accessories." Emily's face continued to crimson.

Miranda's grin was pure wickedness. "Then you've seen Jayden's work."

-TDWP-

The further they went into the arena, the more it became clear that was exactly what it was. Miranda was surprised to note there was an audience and that many had filled the tiered seating, though not all had taken seats. Some knelt. Some stood, in what appeared to be preset locations so they would not block the view of others.

She looked for her lover, and when she spied her, felt a tingle rush through her body. Andrea on a dais was a sight to behold, regal and self-possessed. Andrea's long hair was twisted into a firm bun at the top of her head, creating a sense of classical proportions and ancient beauty. Silver hoops in her earlobes complimented the chained belt she sported. She wore a burgundy silk v-neck button down blouse. The collar was opened quite low, but not quite to the belly button. The blouse was covered by a short black vest, which only reminded one of the healthy ample breasts that Andrea possessed. She wore tight black, fitted leather leggings, which stacked, like Levis over the top of her very dangerous looking pointed black boots. Miranda realized one thing, Andrea was imposing.

It took her breath away and caused her to visibly pause, which was apparently enough to gain Andrea's attention. "Jayden and company," Miranda heard very clearly, "stay where you are." She realized then the auditorium and staging allowed Andrea's voice to carry naturally, without her needing to shout or even speak loudly.

All of them stopped, even Emily, whose expression turned a touch grim. Miranda's, however, remained cool and distant. Jayden assumed the relaxed posture of a dangerous youth. The editor's brow rose slightly at the sight, and then the young woman with the bright hair winked at her.

Miranda's attention then turned back to see that Andrea now stood and was moving to step down to meet them in the middle.

She stopped in front of Miranda, daring.

"I see you thinking," Andrea said softly, nearly purring. "What do you see? You may answer freely."

"You. Wearing Helmut Lang..." Miranda spoke concisely, listing out each designer, each person who had contributed to the full package that made up the Mistress' outfit. She listed the qualities, the essence, the why it worked. Finally slowing to a finish, feeling the way those who were not Emily or Andrea, watched her as if she were a mystery unfathomable, an artist. A magician. She straightened even more, and tilted her head toward Andrea, waiting and unsure if she should have tagged her lover's title at the end; especially when one of the bulkier observers started to step forward as if to chasten.

She nearly exhaled in relief when Emily stepped in front of that person and said, very clearly, very coldly. "You do not get to touch her. You are not even worthy to look at her." The redhead stood her ground, even as she watched the other person lift their hand as if to strike her away. Her eyes promised doom if he tried, but she was willing to take that first hit if necessary; if only to wipe the smug off his face.

"Touch Emily and you die. She has spoken only the truth. Very few of you would ever have been in this slave's presence now, except that she has requested it. Make sure to spread the word. Slave 4289 belongs to me, and only to me. Any attempts to acquire, remove or harm her, or the ones directly linked to her, whom are also mine, will be detrimental to health, wealth and status. This woman is royalty where she comes from. Some of you already know this. You know her true name and what that means. But all you need truly know now, is that she is royalty within my House as well. You will treat her and our Emily with respect." Andrea did not look back, did not see the man pale, did not watch as the Tams suddenly took their places at either side of the redhead. She heard the fresh round of murmurs, but disregarded them. If something were important, Lisle would note it for her later. Her attention focused solely on her Miranda. The Mistress paced slowly around the silver-haired woman, close, but without reaching out just yet. She said, calmly, "You want to touch me, don't you?"

The older woman's gaze tracked Andrea hungrily. She nodded, slowly, not quite prepared to verbalize her desire in front of so many strangers. The energy between the two of them sizzled.

Andrea's smile was tight and she stepped closer, and clasped the top of Miranda's hand. Then, laying the older woman's palm on the sleeve of her burgundy silk shirt, she drew it down her arm, taking in the sharp inhale, the way Miranda's eyes gained light and turned nearly silver. They crossed skin and Miranda shuddered, bit down on the flare of shared desire and the need to cry it out. Andrea turned her palm, so that the object she held in her hand was now being experienced by her Darling. "This is also a part of me," Andrea whispered. "This is an extension of my power, both my caress and my sting. Do you see it?"

Miranda glanced down and let her fingers stroke the coiled, dangerous braids that sang of blood, pain and pleasure. She spoke, just as quietly. Their conversation was their own, but words carried in the arena. Even quiet ones. "Yes." Her mind ran through several thoughts at once, finally arriving at an intimate destination. "Mistress."

This time it was Andrea who shivered. There was a nakedness in the delivery of her office by Miranda's tongue, a prayer of confidence. "You must be quicker, my darling," Andrea cupped Miranda's face and whispered in her ear. "My court might take offense." She kissed the skin between jaw and ear, "Not that I would let them ever have you, but I must appear strong, you see. I don't want to have to punish you for something so simple."

Miranda leaned against Andrea's hand. Had it been anyone else, hellfire and brimstone would have been the only way to get the word to pass her lips, but there was something about her Andrea that allowed Miranda to shed, if only temporarily, her nearly impenetrable armor and hand over control to someone that she could, finally, trust. "Mistress." The word was a benediction between them and nearly took Andrea's breath away.

She leaned in very close, whispered into the other woman's ear so only she could hear, "Sometimes it's not a punishment at all. Miranda." She felt the other woman's shiver, knew that she was understood, that an exploration of the response was a must.

She stepped back and took Miranda's hand. "Chairs, Jayden. By me. See to it."

The small woman sprinted away, oh so very quickly.

-TDWP-

Miranda sat primly on the seat provided, ankles crossed demurely, expression stern and cold. Beside her, Emily sat stiffly, but also neatly. Her expression promised dire things to those who offended her or, more importantly, her Miranda. It only emphasized what had already been declared by Mistress Six. The Tams stood just behind them, arms folded across their chests.

Of the three of them, Andrea was the most relaxed. She leaned back in her chair, legs crossed at the knees, one leg kicking softly and evenly, eyes glinting with dangerous amusement. In her hand, the whip moved, its coils loosened so the line of it slithered with each casual twist of the wrist. Her other arm was propped on the armrest of her very expensive chair. Lisle stood at attention just behind her and slightly to the side, so that she had a clear view of the proceedings.

Jayden was on the other side, not even really sitting in the chair she'd gotten for herself. She crouched, as if she might leap off of it at any moment.

Presently, from a darkened corner, a male of average height was brought forward to the center of the stadium by two people. They literally carried him, then propped him on his knees, before forcing him into a bow. Miranda observed that he was gagged. His arms and hands extend out in front of him. His hands are clasped and cuffed. His forehead touched the ground between his arms.

From an opposite corner, also hidden by shadows, a tall feminine figure strode in measured steps towards center. She wore a latex dress, black with red accents. It dipped low on her bust, and the skirt was long, but wide and slit down the middle. She wore the classic thigh high boots and fingerless gloves and a black mask. Her auburn hair, curled at mid shoulder, and wafted around her head like a glorious crown.

When she arrived, she placed a foot, very carefully on the backside of the prone man. The assistants who guided the man broke off, sprinting away, then brought in a rolling table of instruments of contact and then a standing, sturdy frame.

It was quiet as a church, during the whole of this and the woman in the mask fearlessly took in the whole of the audience, working her attention slowly across until she reached Mistress Six and her companions. Her expression gave nothing away, but her attention slowed and then picked up again as she continued her observation to the other side. By the time she was finished, there were very few people who felt they had been missed by those sharp green eyes, especially Miranda.

The editor, previous to her arrival, had not come into the stadium entirely blind. She had always been a well read woman, an experienced one. One does not deal in or appreciate fashion without understanding its influences, affects and effects. And it sometimes meant dipping into unexpected worlds and relationships. It's not that she was fearless, it was that she always refused to let it rule her.

During the course of her life, Miranda had made friends, a very few and a very select from various walks of life. Despite her taunt to Emily just a few days ago, there were more than just Serena and Nigel to count. Some of those friends had occupations that were similar to hers or related by artistry or sometimes in fields utterly different. She always guarded those friendships with a very great care, as they guarded hers. Their names were not included upon the list she gave to Irv, though she was sure she could have used them. They protected each other.

As she watched, it was the small things that caught her attention, that struck chords of familiarity; a glint in the eyes, a physical movement. Intimacy is not always about the sex. Sometimes it's about what you knew about a person.

One of the rules, one of things Miranda absolutely knew about Andrea's world is that one does not break masquerade. If one wore a mask to the ball, one did not tear it off; unless invited to do so. Her body tensed and she forced herself to relax in increments, to remember, that just because she did not wish to be verbal did not mean she could not communicate.

"You may begin." The words were spoken softly by Andrea, but heard by all. The woman in the mask offered the very slightest head nod.

Miranda did not know for sure, until the woman spoke. Then the woman said, "As you wish."


	11. Chapter 11

TDWP: The Devil's Mistress Ch. 11

The man, standing spread-eagled and panting, supported by chains that had been carefully applied, was spent. His body language was, aside from its positioning and the marks that evidenced an intense physical experience, quite relaxed. He leaned into the touch of the woman who artfully brought him to this heightened space and his expression was one of absolute surrender. If she demanded more of him, one knew he would pull from his depth to respond.

He was not the only one who is putty in her hands, at least symbolically speaking. A goodly portion of the audience would have done much to be in his place.

She leaned in and whispered something just for him, a praise, if one measured his expression correctly. Then the woman stepped back and nodded to the assistants. They liberated him carefully, and where before they dragged him, now one carried him like a child, cuddled and secure, away.

She watched them leave, and only then turned her attention back to the audience, which, aside from appreciative noises and a final cumulative exhale had not broken the scene. Once again her gaze raked the audience slowly. This time, however, when she arrived at center, she let her attention stay on Andrea.

Mistress Six let the silence hold, and then said, "We are pleased. You have earned an audience."

\- TDWP -

Miranda, once she determined that it had to be who she thought, had exercised considerable will to just observe. Once it appeared that the scene was over, she glanced at Emily, whose expression had gone through several renditions, which had started at disapproval, but had ended up at awed. She reached then, because she could, and took the young woman's hand. It caused a gasp, but also brought Emily's attention back to her. "Art is art," Miranda said very quietly. "Sometimes it is found in the most unexpected of places."

The Brit nodded, a little taken aback by the observation and definitely the experience, but not in disagreement.

"Are you alright?"

Emily, who would have bit the head off of anyone else who might have asked, merely nodded again. Miranda squeezed her hand. She understood the feelings were probably very visceral. Certainly she was not... unmoved. Then, daring, Miranda turned to Andrea. She communicated via the networked part of herself, rather than spoke, "May we speak?"

Andrea, who had been whispering something to Lisle, no doubt setting up the appointment, turned her attention to Miranda after.

Miranda was aware that the Mistress had cast glances in her direction, trying to gage the silver-haired woman's responses. The editor, however, had long practice in remaining cool in almost any circumstance. That said, she let the warmth she felt for Andrea color her aspect.

Andrea said, "Did it please you then?" If there was a touch of surprise in her voice, Miranda ignored it.

"It was not a performance for me, but rather for you. I appreciated the skill involved and would like to meet the person behind the mask, Mistress."

"It can be arranged."

"Can it be arranged before she meets with you?"

"Not without my being there, no."

"I would not dream of keeping you away, Mistress."

Andrea's smile filled her eyes.

\- TDWP -

They did not go to the conference room, but rather to one of the Mistress' audience suites. The decor was light; golds and whites and daylight. The windows were faux, as their view led to places much too green to be real, and they were well into the belly of the complex, but they lent a warm reality to the scene.

There was a throne again, and space for... entertainment, including a bed set to the side. Miranda held no inner comment about objects observed. She was waiting with a near toe-tapping anxiousness, which a few short months ago would have led to striding down halls, snapping orders to commence and demands for coffee. For her, the fact that she managed to stay still was on the order of a miracle.

Which, apparently, Andrea knew almost as soon as she entered the room. "Have you been standing the whole time?"

Miranda arched a brow, "Your minion, not Jayden or Lisle, gave me a strict order to stand here until you arrived. I have no idea what he did with Emily, but also no doubt the Tams will keep it orderly. Mistress." The delivery of the final word was perhaps a little sharp, but not disrespectful nor an act of forgetful appendage. Then, bending a little, she communicated via network channels, "As I did not know the level of security for the room, as it is not listed, I opted in favor of 'it might be videoed'."

"I see," Andrea said and she walked toward Miranda, until they were standing very close, not quite touching. She shared, also silently, "The room is very private, no cameras unless we bring them." She gazed into fearless blue eyes and her expression warmed. Then she said, aloud, "How daring are you, Miranda?"

"I ran a multi-billion dollar industry based very much in what is daring."

"If I said I wanted you naked and that the woman coming will see you so..."

Miranda promptly reached for the first closed button on her blouse. Andrea's hand reached out and stopped her. The silver-haired woman closed her eyes at the heat conveyed, and bit her lower lip slightly. The hand did not move. When she felt able, she opened her eyes again, noting that the Mistress' attention had not wavered.

"Let me."

Andrea uncovered her hand, which Miranda let drop, then she gradually unbuttoned the blouse, almost all the way down, leaving it tucked in. Her fingers then slid up Miranda's abdomen. The editor exhaled, feeling as if blood were rushing everywhere at once, as if need crowded her blood.

Andrea whispered, "I'm so tempted to just start loving you now, Miranda, to be caught taking you by this woman."

The silver-haired woman blinked then, as she realized the words were tinged with a heated possessiveness. It was... surprising, given what she had thought she understood, but...she could not help leaning into Andrea's touch, craving it. "Take me then." She meant it, absolutely.

"Fearless."

"No. Just yours." Miranda whispered in correction, only for her ears.

Andrea's breath caught. Then she visibly relaxed. She drew back and Miranda mourned the loss of contact.

"Our visitor will be here shortly," Andrea said as she walked away and then sat down on the throne with that striking casual elegance. She relaxed back into it. Then she extended her hand, "Come and sit."

Miranda started forward and took her hand, then allowed herself to be pulled where Andrea wanted her. Once again once settled on her lap and without prompting, her body relaxed against her lover with an astonishing ease. "I do not know how you do this to me, Andrea."

Andrea's arms wrapped securely around Miranda and she drew her close. "You are not alone in the sensation. I imagine if the situation were reversed, I would do the same."

Miranda pulled back, just enough to look in Andrea's eyes. She cocked her head and then said, as was her wont when words failed, "Well."

"Kiss me."

Miranda did not hesitate. Her lips brushed softly against her lover's and then, the kiss deepened and warmed. She was well aware that one of Andrea's hands had crawled sensually up her skin, and covered one of her breasts under the open cloth of her blouse. A delicate touch honed her nipple to aching and then Andrea's palm rested there, rubbing only lightly. Her other breast ached from the contact of brushing up against her lover's body. Time disappeared for Miranda, as did all thoughts of anyone else. Desire flushed Miranda's skin, and she felt delicious heat spread from belly on down. Her legs spread just a little, but it was not a conscious gesture, merely the posture of receptivity that her positioning and her need allowed.

It was Andrea who pulled back first, slowly. Miranda's eyes were heavy lidded, but not quite closed. She watched the younger woman, hungrily, still mostly aware of where she was, but at the same time on the edge of being easily lost. Miranda leaned forward, curving her face into Andrea's neck.

The brunette said, "Do you still want to meet with her?

A puff of air and then a kiss caressed Andrea's neck. "Yes. I must."

"Must?" The word was said with ill-pleasure.

"She will attempt something foolish if I do not."

Again Andrea drew in a breath, but this time it was one of understanding. "You know her."

"I think I do. I could be wrong. It was a clever mask, covered much of her face. You'll know her when you truly see her, from the assistant days." Miranda pulled back, "If it is who I think it is, she must be on the list. She already was. On mine, that is."

Andrea blinked, and then peered into Miranda's eyes. This time it was she who was at a loss for words. "Well."

Miranda's lips curved into a sultry smile and she pecked Andrea on the lips. "I used to find jealousy tiresome. Usually because it was oh, so hypocritical. But on you, green shades to gold."

"I only want to protect you."

"And keep me."

"I... Yes."

A knock at the door warned them. Miranda leaned forward and whispered, "They may try and I may forced to go, but you will always have me, my Andrea."

The brunette squeezed the woman in her lap gently, "No one is taking you anywhere against your will again. They will rue the day they try." Then she settled back into a pose that was a little less seduction and much more queen. "Enter."

\- TDWP -

The woman strode in with confidence, looking about with quick awareness. If there was a hitch in her step it was very hard to tell. She still wore the mask, though her outfit had been changed to something a touch more leisurely. She stopped in front of the throne and, this time, curtsied. "Mistress Six. I am honored to be in your presence."

"Your performance was delightful. We thank you for it." Andrea said, watching the woman with an inscrutable expression on her face. The brunette's fingertips trailed lazily along the revealed parts of Miranda's skin. The editor had shifted, no longer so completely pliant in the Mistress' arms, but neither was she unrelaxed.

"It was my pleasure," the woman answered. "I have looked forward to this moment for some time. I had no idea it would come so quickly once the opportunity was upon me."

"You are now in the safety of my chamber, where your privacy will be respected. Neither I, nor my slave will reveal who you are to outsiders, unless you should choose it. Will you take off your mask?"

For the first time since entering the woman's eyes flicked toward Miranda. Then she reached behind her head and undid the clasp that held the mask in place from the back. It was so perfectly fitted, it did not just drop. She reached from the front and gently pulled it off, finally revealing her face.

Everyone remained quiet for a few seconds, then Andrea said with just a touch of astonishment, "Nan Westmore. You are a woman of talent and quite a surprise."

"To you, perhaps." Miranda quipped.

Before Andrea could respond to the tweak, Nan erupted into conversation.

"Do you have any idea how very difficult it has been to track you down, Miranda? You were supposed to call and I told you what would happen if you missed it. I did warn you. Thank god I had a man on the job to begin with," Nan vented almost immediately, obviously a touch distraught.

Miranda glanced at Andrea who offered a nod. Then she stood and started toward her friend. "You had me followed?"

"No." Nan started. Then she said, "Well, yes. But not followed, followed. He was simply there to make sure things went smoothly. To assist the assistants, if you will. I recalled our conversations about how challenging you were finding it to find someone to fill in a certain person's shoes." She glanced meaningfully in Andrea's direction and then back to her friend.

"Ah." Miranda said, as she stepped down off the dais and as if a mystery had been solved. Of course, there was more to it than that, but she held her peace for the moment. "I begin to understand my new second assistant's sudden competence. The price of a good friend can not be measured in cash, but really Nan. It was quite unnecessary."

"Nonsense. I should have thought of it sooner. You've been going through them like sand for years now and you can't tell me the migraines were getting any better. It was the least I could do. Besides, it's always helpful to have a man on the inside. How do you think I manage your surprise parties?"

Andrea's eyes widened. "You never mentioned headaches, Miranda."

"My medical condition was not anyone else' business. It had no bearing on anything."

Andrea would have disagreed, especially given what it potentially explained about mood, but she also wanted to hear what Nan had to say. She made a mental note to check with the doctor about it.

"Anyhow, you did not show up for one of the events the next day and my man grew worried. Naturally we followed up. Are you aware that absolutely no police statements were given nor were you or your children reported missing. I spent money hand over fist to find alternate sources to try to locate you." Her hands moved expressively. "My people lost you at that damn corporation and then picked up a possible track, which led to this country and then many, many, many bribes later, one learned of a very important person who might possibly know how to or at least be able point us in the right direction to find one very screwed friend of mine. It was a completely long shot to even try, since by all technicalities, once sold you were lost. All we had were numbers and then I'm not entirely sure they were the right ones. Luckily I'd been taking lessons."

"Lessons. Whatever for?"

"Oh. New girlfriend, what else. She wanted something a little more exciting. So I hired a professional dominatrix to teach me. She was quite wonderful at schooling me, but the effort was somewhat useless as the girlfriend didn't stick. Apparently I am intimidating. Me?" The protest was sincere, even after that astonishing display in the stadium.

"Darling, you are. We won't just speak of the multinational corporation or of the charitable organizations, of which you seem so fond. We can just point to today's display. Women in power, Nan. Not everyone can handle a woman of strength. We've had the discussion."

"Yes. Yes." Nan waved, then she planted a hand on her hip. "Well, it turned out the lessons were useful after all." She turned her attention to Andrea, "I do thank you for letting me borrow that young man. He was extraordinary." Her expression tightened. The other hand dangled the mask near her thigh and she looked to Miranda who was now very close. "So. Do I have to rescue you or not?"

"She really is always like this. I thought it was just the gala." Andrea blinked.

"Always has been. No dear. You may stand down. I am quite rescued."

"Well, I can't quite stand down yet. The children..."

"Are fine. With us."

"Oh. Thank god."

And then, outburst finished, Nan burst into tears and Miranda drew her into her arms.

\- TDWP -

"Naturally you come out of this looking better than ever." Nan pulled back from the hug, still unabashedly teary. She wanted to take a good look at her friend, but the moisture was making it a little hard. Miranda gently thumbed the tears away. "Most women just go to the surgeon and avoid all the headaches of kidnapping."

"And enslavement. Mustn't forget that."

Nan hissed. "No. Mustn't." She turned a narrow gaze at Andrea.

"None of that. Andrea is not the cause. She is the cure and the rescue. And a very timely one."

Nan's expression turned speculative then, altering quickly from points dire. She pulled back more fully, though not entirely out of Miranda's embrace. "And how did you find my friend?"

"By accident. Caroline and Cassidy were brought to me first."

Nan wavered, looking slightly green, then as the full impact began to sink in. "I think I need to sit down."

Miranda quietly led her friend to the edge of the bed and they sat together, with Nan tucked into the other woman's shoulder consolingly. Andrea stood then, suddenly able to let go of several unexpected worries. She paced to a hidden bar and drew a drink of some potency for the woman, taking only a moment to recall what she had seen the woman drink the one time they had met. Then she took a place at the other side, holding out the drink to Miranda, who took it.

"Here you go," Miranda said. "It must have been long days for you."

"For me!" Nan protested, even as she pulled back and wiped her cheeks. "Look at me blubbering, when it's you who..."

"No," Andrea said firmly. "You will not devalue your experience. You've both been through differently hard times, but hard times none-the-less. You have a right to the tears and the aftershock."

Nan sniffled and then said to Miranda, "No wonder you loved her." She grasped the drink then and, surprising them both, only sipped. "What? I'm not insane. Just very tired and it's making me weepy." She waved a hand at both of them, "And then of course, you."

Miranda pressed her lips to Nan's temple.

"I have guest rooms, Nan. Will you stay with us for awhile?" Andrea asked.

Nan took another sip, this one a little longer. "Yes. I'll stay. Miranda wants to tell me things and you obviously know things I do not. I took time off. They think I am in the Caribbean getting my tan. The do not disturb order is quite firm, but I stay in contact."

"Good."

\- TDWP -

Those persons who had accompanied Nan on her quest, her bodyguards and an assistant, were given quarters in the compound and a small guided tour about the facility, so they could familiarize themselves with it and the protocols related to being guests there. The guards were put under the temporary direction and care of Derick, while the assistant was given the rest of the day off to recuperate. Nan was not the only one who had experienced very long days during the search.

It had been a temptation to tell the woman everything right off the bat, but both Miranda and Andrea agreed that she likely would receive the news after a solid nap and some food. They brought her home and settled her in the promised guestroom.

After, Miranda finally made the inquiry that had begun to niggle. "Where is Emily?"

"Lisle decided that she and Emily ought to get to know one another better."

The silver-haired editor cocked her brow, "How much better?"

Andrea's grin was slow and teasing, but she relented and shrugged, "Honestly, I don't know. Lisle mentioned something about needing to give Emily a breather and shopping."

"It has been a few overwhelming days."

Andrea cast a glance in the direction of Nan's room. "For everyone, I think."

\- TDWP -

Dr. Montgomery smiled at the three women. "Miranda, you're officially off the chain of thou-shalt-not. Everything appears to be either well on the mend or exactly where it ought to be. I'd like to do a check up in a couple of days, just to make sure we're staying on track."

"I'll speak with Miranda and Lisle about times," Andrea said. "Just to be sure, are there any activities that we ought to limit?"

"Don't throw any boulders. No lifting cars. Not for a week at least." Addison's grin was impish. "But seriously, use common sense."

"I think we can manage that," the brunette said, appreciating the tease. She looked at Miranda who appeared very at ease and then at Emily, who, even with the shopping spree, still had aspects of strung-tightly written in her posture.

\- TDWP -

"What?" Miranda arched an eyebrow at Emily, "Did you think I'd pounce on you as immediately as given the go-ahead."

The art-director-in-hiding flushed, feeling slightly caught out. It wasn't as if they'd talked about things all that much and she really did not know what to expect or not expect or...

"Relax, Emily. We were having a fine time before. Nothing is changed." Andrea extended her elbow to Miranda, who looped a hand around it. "Well, almost nothing. I think we need to talk about the list and Nan and sundry other details and then, I think we should allow things to happen naturally."

"Naturally!" Emily didn't quite spit the word.

Before she could begin on a diatribe, Miranda let go of Andrea's arm and then paced toward Emily. She deliberately reached and clasped her face with both hands. Then, without hesitating, kissed her until it deepened. Then she pulled back and looked into the redhead's eyes. "Better?"

The Brit took a moment to consider. Then, exhaling, she nodded. Miranda did not quite smile, but she pulled back and allowed Andrea to claim her hand again.

They started walking toward the exit. Then Emily pegged. "Wait. Nan?"

"Ah, yes. She was the performance artist."

That stalled Emily slightly, but she picked up again, "I find that distinctly hard to believe."

Miranda offered a tiger's smile, "Could you imagine me doing it?"

"Yes," Emily said, as she opened the door, followed through and then held it for them. "Actually, I can. Nan Westmore on the other hand..."

"Think it through, Emily, then come back to me," Miranda said as they passed by her. "Or better yet, discuss it with Nan. I think you'll find it illuminating."

"You're serious."

"Oh, and she is now on the list, just so you are aware."

Emily found herself standing several paces behind before she realized they had continued to move forward.

\- TDWP -

Miranda peeked in on her old friend and then quietly backed out of the room. She found Emily in the study, along with Andrea. They both looked up at her. "She's worn out. It will be awhile, I think," she said as she took a place on the other end of the couch upon which Emily sat.

"She's an extraordinary friend," Andrea commented.

"Yes. But also lucky. I shudder to think of her daring so much on my behalf. If it had been anyone but you, Andrea..." They shared a glance, understanding the risks.

"Well, then we will praise fortune for her kindness, and be glad she made it here safe. We will also make sure she is able to return home safe. I will put out the word that she is ours and to be treated as such."

"Does she know? That she is on your list?"

"She doesn't even know about the list, Emily. But she'll be told and yes, I suspect, she would know in a way, as she's been on my list for quite some time now." The Brit couldn't find a reply that fit, so Miranda decided to tease a little more, "It's called discretion. Despite appearances, she does have it."

"For the important things," Nan interjected. She entered the room sleepy-eyed and tugging her robe closed.

"I thought you were still asleep."

"Oh, I was. Then I nightmared. Seemed fruitless to try to sleep again. It always takes me a half-hour to settle down and so I might as well be up for that little bit." Nan took a place in the middle of the couch, tucking her leg under her as she sat. She turned briefly and said, "Hello Emily. Nice to see you again. I see you too are riding the jet-lag stream."

The redhead's eyes were wide, but she managed to sound a little less shocked than she felt, "Not quite as much as I was, thank you."

"Hmm. Well, we shall get caught up, I'm sure. Miranda, I walked in as you were saying something about a list. Whatever are we talking about?"

\- TDWP -

Miranda was grateful for what extra strength and capacity she'd been given, because as they revealed the changes in her life to her friend, Nan's grip on her hand had grown progressively tighter. The editor had been the one to reach out, knowing that her friend might need the contact and that Nan was aware and careful of Miranda's sensitivities. The socialite listened gravely and did not ease the grip until the explanation, which had bounced between the three other women as topics flowed, finally ended.

It was quiet in the room after, as Nan was given the chance to absorb the information and the implications. Finally she said, "Well, of course, I'm going to say yes. Miranda, I find you absolutely impossible to resist, as you well know." She leaned over and kissed her friend on the cheek. Then she turned her attention to Andrea, "After listening to you, I think, if I am to keep up, I might need to consider that it's time for another face lift. I am very interested in meeting your Dr. Montgomery."

"I quite like you the way you are," Miranda said.

Nan just smiled, "You always say that. But, I remind you, this is one my vacations and you do know how I traditionally return home from them."

Emily said, "I still remember page six gushing over your last vacation's results. You looked quite fit."

"I should have, given how much it cost. Though I also admit that I have been quite lucky in my choice of surgeons. Only skillful hands have touched this body."

"Somehow, I suspect that luck had nothing to do with it. We'll talk with her and see how we can help you maintain your cover," Andrea said.

"Excellent, thank you." Nan closed her eyes briefly and then opened them again. "I believe my nap is calling me once more. I think I will try again."

Andrea unfurled from her seat, standing. She reached down with her hand toward the woman, "I still owe you time, Nan. Would you consider a companion for your nap?"

The woman blinked at her and then flipped her gaze at Miranda. Blue eyes offered gentle reassurance and acceptance. "Well," Nan muttered. Then she placed her free hand in Andrea's and let go of Miranda's. "How can I refuse?"

Andrea smiled easily and gently assisted the socialite up, "By saying No. I have a very simple policy that way."

"You needn't worry on that score, dear Andrea. You and I are going to get along famously." She looked straight into Andrea's eyes. "I know it." She turned to look at Miranda and Emily and grinned impishly, "Enjoy the time this one is so carefully arranging for you."

Miranda merely continued to gaze serenely at her friend, while Emily became instantly gobsmacked.

Nan chuckled, "My job is done here. Take me away, Andy."


	12. Chapter 12

TDWP: The Devil's Mistress Ch. 12

Miranda settled against the armrest of the couch, turning so she could observe the flabbergasted redhead. She was so tempted to smile, to allow a shark’s grin to cross her lips, but instead she allowed her expression to change to an unreadable mask. Then, like an invocation, she whispered an old phrase of summons, one that both knew well from intonation alone. Like Andrea’s name, Miranda’s phrasing for this was unique to the person. It was a skill she possessed, to take an individual’s name and make it her own. “Emily.”

The Brit’s eyes widened and her pupil’s darkened. Her breath caught. “Yes, Miranda.” Both were highly aware that the tone of her voice held shades of the past in it, but it was overshadowed by a new flavor. Desperation and promptness had filled previous incarnations of the phrase, but this time desire smoked through it, curling around Miranda’s name.

Now the silver-haired woman let a tiger’s smile grace her lips and she crooked a finger. No need to repeat herself. 

Emily, stood and then glided toward Miranda in three short steps with an unconscious sensuality that neither knew she possessed. The ex-editor raised her hand, palm forward, just before she reached her. “Stop. Stay there. Stand still.”

The words were spoken softly, but with full control behind them. Emily, without even thinking about it, obeyed. 

A heated light glinted in Miranda’s eyes. She turned her head just slightly, not even three-quarters, but enough to seem distant and said, “You’re wearing far too many clothes.” Then she waited, glancing out the corner of her eyes for the brief recognition of the hidden demand. 

Emily stiffened, then with a care for her clothes born of years of practice, disrobed in careful succession; blouse, skirt, slip, shoes, hose. She paused then, and with a boldness she rarely displayed when she worked for Miranda as an assistant - though as an art-editor she had quite often - asked something. “Would you like to take these off?”

A challenge was in her gaze, a dare, but also a secret hope. Miranda recognized the symbolics, though it was unspoken. Would this relationship be partnership or revolve solely around her wants, her power over Emily? 

Miranda had a few questions of her own. “Do you ever wonder why I took Andrea to Paris? I mean, other than the fact you were a broken doll at the time?”

Emily flinched, but having dared once, she was ready to do so again. “I did. I went over and over all the things I could then think of, my mistakes, my qualifications.”

“And?”

“In the end, it did not matter. You wanted Andrea with you, so she went. I thought perhaps because of my flaws, I had failed you, but other than that, and my broken foot, I .... I realized it was one of your mysteries.”

“Hmm.” Miranda slid off the couch, standing, and then walked the rest of the way toward Emily, stopping only a foot away. “Interesting.” She began to pace around the younger woman, like a predator around her prey. “Perhaps a portion of the truth. I think you could see some of it, or assumed you knew some of what motivated me, even then; though you would not say it. Envy is a terrible thing. It gnaws away at us, makes us gaunt and impatient with the world. It also does one of two things, often both, it makes us hyper vigilant or unobservant of the details.”

Emily closed her eyes, recalling and suddenly understanding. It had never been personal. It had always been very personal. “You needed someone who could manage the details and not be crushed by competition.”

“And someone who could walk. The one good thing about your hospital stay, was that you started eating again. The extremes in which you took your dieting was ruining your potential. I needed the mind as well as the body. I can say it now, but it wasn’t my place then. Now, as your lover, I can say, how very much I enjoy looking at your body and how much I appreciate your quickness.” Emily arched as she felt the brush of fingertips run lightly along her skin, brief and startlingly sweet. Her teeth pressed into her lower lip. “Take off the bra, Emily.” She felt a whisper of breath against her ear, “Please.”

A rippling shiver rushed through Emily. She reached back, finding the snaps that held the flimsy, but beautiful clothing in place. Before she could undo it, she felt, again, the briefest of touches. This time on the tops of her fingers. That touch fluttered down, and triangulated until it was on her sides, sliding down in butterfly motions along her trunk. She finished her task, and the strap loosened, forcing a form of modesty upon her, even as Miranda’s fingertips edged into the band of her panties. 

She felt a pulse of desire slide from sternum to center, and a desire, immediate, to open and receive. 

Miranda pressed down until the panties slid as gravity demanded. Emily stepped out, hands still to breast, holding cloth unnecessarily up. Or so she thought until Miranda stepped around her, unwinding up and circling around until they were eye to eye. Her fingers skimmed across the Brit’s surface in a same motion, like she was the pattern for a DNA strand. “Here, allow me.”

Miranda grasped the straps, which had fallen in lazy loops down Emily’s upper arms, and gently pulled; liberating the bra from her soon-to-be lover. Revealing. Emily’s hands dropped and the cloth floated down and away. Miranda’s fingertips now drew delicate circles around the rosy tips of the art editor’s breasts, causing her to gasp lightly. “I always knew they’d be beautiful.”

Miranda withdrew slightly, but just enough so she grasp Emily by one of her hands. “As much delight as we might find in the couch, I think it might be better to enjoy each other in your room, don’t you?”

Emily did not bother to reply, though her eyes did flick to the discarded clothes. Miranda managed not to roll her eyes, smirked and said, “If you must.”

==^==

Miranda might have teased, but she was aware that Emily’s attention to detail was part of what made her a great assistant, and earned wanna-be assistants the lowercase version of her name. And she only regretted moving Emily to her next position in the sense that it was a loss of efficiency, but once the young woman had gained her feet under her again, she had risen to her potential and it had become time. So now as she watched the Brit, still wonderfully nude, took care of her clothes once in the room, what surprised her was that she found an odd comfort in the domesticity. It was so mundane, yet curiously Emily.

The redhead, who was bending over so her heart-shaped hips were displayed provocatively, looked over her shoulder. 

Miranda’s breath caught and she felt a visceral response that warmed through her, flushing her skin lightly. Two steps forward and by the time she was there, Emily was upright again. Miranda’s hands and arms slipped around the redhead, sliding up the soft, smooth skin of her side and belly. 

Emily leaned back, arching her neck as she felt the whisper of a breath. “Beautiful.” With one hand, Miranda threaded her fingers through the younger woman’s hair, gripping and then pulling her head back gently. The other hand slid up, until she reached the curve of one of Emily’s breasts, which she cupped. Miranda’s thumb brushed against a nipple which ached and stiffened at her touch. “I have dreamed of this for so long.”

“You have?” Emily’s reply was a bare whisper, threaded with surprise and long hidden denial.

Miranda’s tongue flicked the younger woman’s pale earlobe. “Yes. But I was always a professional. Work before pleasure. You know this.” A brief smile curved the kiss that brushed the redhead’s neck and then Emily turned a little more in Miranda’s arms, wanting to see what truth might be in that sharp blue gaze. The older woman, however, had her eyes closed.

Somehow, still, she unerringly found Emily’s lips with her own, plundering with an oddly familiar insistence. As Miranda’s hands softly explored and molded the redhead to her body, Emily closed her eyes too, letting herself surrender and grasp this unbelievable moment to herself. “Miranda, Miranda,” she exhaled the other woman’s name like it was pleasure itself. The words turned into a gasp as one of Miranda’s hands, which had slid up her back in a long, slow caress, grasped her hair firmly, but not hurtfully at the nape. 

Miranda tugged, eliciting another gasp. Her lips slid from Emily’s mouth and along the younger woman’s cheek and jaw, with tiny nips, down the curve of neck again. The redhead leaned against her, hands pressed to her ribcage. The younger woman’s fingertips kneaded a little, like a cat. She moaned lightly as she was tilted back a little further so Miranda’s hand could cup a breast until she felt the hardened tip press against her palm. She let her hand circle, pushing without crushing and sensing. 

“I could easily get lost in you,” Miranda said. “You so want to surrender and be possessed by me. You feel delicious.”

Emily’s eyes opened then and her finger tips stilled, “Miranda...”

“No need to reply or justify. I want the same. But you...” Miranda drew back and that tiger’s grin returned. She tugged again, causing a small hiss to be uttered. “... need me to go first.”

“I don’t understand...”

Miranda released Emily’s hair and drew her hand down again, until it covered the fleshy portion of the younger woman’s hip. She drew her nails along sensitive skin. “Oh, I think you do.” Then, briefly, she withdrew her touch. 

It returned with a stinging force. 

“Oh!”

Miranda drew back and she smiled as she observed the blushing color rise along the major observable portion of Emily’s skin. The flushed woman’s blue eyes dilated receptively. The ex-editor caressed the newly rouged skin and Miranda said mildly and yet at the same time with a tone that brooked no argument and full expectation of obedience, “Turn around and put your palms on the bed.”

Emily’s eyes widened, but her lips compressed and, without further word she turned and stepped the short space away, leaving Miranda’s arms. As she bent, though, Miranda was again presented with the beautiful shape of the redhead’s hips. She felt a complicated rush of desire as she was overwhelmed with the need and want to do several things at once.

She forced a breath through her nostrils, forced the sense of urgency down and knew that she was going to enjoy everything that might happen next. “Ten, I think. Five for each side, well.. now four for one, but still...” Miranda was not prone to rambling, but her senses were still in places of delight and she felt a warning was fair, as was the declaration of a limit. At least for this first time.

A purposeful stride later and she was standing close enough behind Emily that she could feel her body heat again. She nibbled her lower lip and her eyes lit with anticipation. Then she drew her hand back and let it fall, sharp enough to sting, heavy enough to cause the flesh beneath to redden and jiggle, but not so hard it would bruise. She saw the way Emily’s hands clenched the bedding and grinned. She caressed the younger woman softly, enjoying the sensual, textural change that her gift enabled and then, she lifted her hand and let fly again. 

Miranda paced herself. Each time between, she paused, taking a moment to caress and soothe and feel. She let her fingernails rake across and down, enjoying the way Emily twitched in response. Her own body responded as she took in scent, sight, sound and feeling. She felt an ache of pleasure, her own slickness and throbbing anticipation.

By the time Miranda’s final swat had landed, Emily had unconsciously repositioned herself, spread her legs a little wider. Miranda imagined that if she had done so with Andrea, there might have been a punishment involved for moving without permission, however, all it did was cause a warm possessiveness to fill her. This time, she allowed her caress to rove lower and she brought her hand up between Emily’s thighs, eliciting another call of her name.

Miranda let her fingertips follow the delicate lines and folds without delving, until she reached her redhead’s trimmed curls. They were slick and wet and seemed to wrap around her fingertips and urge her to stroke there, to play for just a moment. So she did, knowing that she was slowly driving Emily to want to open for her, to need her more desperately. 

Miranda pressed close, until Emily’s hips were tight against her. Again she felt a pulsing sensation in multiple places and she began to understand that she had the desire to go with the addition. That was new. And that alone told her much about the intended plans of her enemies. Yet, that did not matter now. 

“Please,” Emily groaned, not able to ask in full meaning. But needing, so very much.

Miranda removed her hand, letting it skim along the younger woman’s path of desire. “Stand upright and turn around.” 

Emily, did so, turning to her and looking through eyes hazy with erotic hunger. Miranda touched the middle of her chest, laying her palm flat against the woman’s heart and then she pushed her, prompting her to sit onto the bed. “Sit.”

Somehow that bare-boned command came out in a near purr, one full of promise. Emily shivered at the tone and her knees seemed to give out on their own. 

Miranda knelt, and she pushed her knee-high pencil skirt up her thighs, somehow still managing to appear powerful to the glazed eyes of the redhead. The silver-haired woman undid the few buttons of her blouse, and then shrugged out of her clothing with ease. She was not wearing a bra, which was unusual for her, but oddly not surprising given circumstances. Miranda had always known what to wear or not wear with a particular outfit. 

It did not change that Emily’s breath caught or that her eyes widened. “You called me beautiful...,” she said in reverence, “but you have always been ...”

Miranda, let the blouse lay where it fell and laid her palms on Emily’s knees and then she gently pushed the younger woman’s legs apart. Her hands slid along Emily’s thighs, until they reached the point where the joints met. She arched a brow as the redhead lifted her hips slightly, offering. “Yes. Well. As they say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” Her fingertips brushed lightly, moving teasingly forward, before pressing right at the crease and then Miranda gently pulled. Her lips quirked. “You might wish to lay back. As the wolf once said, ‘Red, I am going to eat you up.’” 

Emily’s heavily panted “Oh god,” was followed by the sound of cloth compacting and the bed lifting on its springs in response to the redhead's near vibrating compliance. Then she had another reason to cry out.

Miranda’s tongue slid along and in the silken folds, exploring and tasting without inhibition and glorying in it. She drew Emily’s essence in, surrendered to the color and texture, and found the sweet hub that beckoned. Her long, flexible tongue flicked and circled around it, before she drew in for an intimate kiss. Then, as the art-editor moaned, she let herself get lost in the pleasuring, in the pursuing, until pale hands clutched the bedspread tightly. The redhead’s skin shone like a pearl in the soft light of the moon. Her hair was thrust back so her face and expressions weren’t hidden from her lover. Her legs were spread, feet planted on the floor by the edge of the bed and knees slightly bent. She pushed back with aching desperation, needing to be filled.

Miranda obliged, needing to taste more. She pushed in deeply with her tongue and groaned with the glorious pleasure of it as Emily’s nectar spilled and coated her. Then she groaned, as she pressed against the deeper end, felt its soft give. Now she understood the value of a long, thick tongue, embraced it with sweet abandon. The young woman bucked against the intimate intrusion, pushed in response, needing. Miranda’s hands slid back around her thighs, until she was grasping the younger woman by her hips and dragging her closer. 

She kept her word, consumed her, drank her up with a delicious abandon until Emily was incoherent and her sole existence a pivoting point of pleasure and release, pleasure and release. She sang it out, crying out Miranda’s name until it formed one long syllable and keen, until she shook and quaked as the electric song shivered through her, again and again. 

The redhead was in no shape to beg for even mercy, and Miranda could have gone for much longer, as she loved the taste of the normally high-strung woman. However, all her senses were very much in tune now and while she dragged herself away, reluctantly, she somehow managed it. Her lips trailed wetly up along a smooth, pale belly; straight-lining until she reached tender, aching globes. Again that long, agile tongue proved a wonderful thing, as she looped it around a thickened blush reddened nipple, while her hands held and caressed Emily’s breast. 

Miranda’s hips pressed up tightly between the redhead's open thighs, and Miranda rocked them softly, just enough to spike Emily’s pleasure in new ways, and cause her to cry out with each, gentle rhythmic thrust. 

Scraping her fingernails along the redhead's sensitized skin, Miranda finally released the younger woman’s breasts and continued her slow trek up. Teeth nipped and lips caressed, until they finally rested on Emily’s own, plundering with soft insistence. 

When a point of “Enough, no more,” had been reached, Miranda moved, until she reclined by Emily, laying on her side. Even though she no longer caressed to stimulate, her hand rested on Emily’s hip, drawing slow circles.

The younger woman’s eyes were closed, eyelids fluttering lightly as she breathed deeply, trying to recenter. Her chest was heaving. Her body trembling with the reverberating aftershocks of pleasure. 

She found a word, a prayer and praise. “Miranda.”

The older woman smiled, couldn’t help the very relaxed tease. “So it was worth the wait then?”

Emily, who never in her life would have thought she’d have this moment, started to laugh.

\----- TDWP -----

Nan might have hesitated in her manipulations if she hadn’t gained confidence in Andrea’s company and hadn’t been thoroughly aware of Miranda’s subtle signals of approval. She also knew she was, in a way, seeking Andrea’s mark of acceptance. It was one thing to open to an idea, and quite another to take it that next step further. Nan was no stranger to relationships that went past the traditional couple-dom and she knew the hazards as well as the joys. And even with that knowledge, given Miranda’s new circumstances, she was not entirely sure how this would all work. 

The younger woman led her back to the room where she’d been napping. Despite their exit, she’d made no other move than to offer her arm as an informal guide. Nor did she say much on the way. 

The silence made Nan slightly nervous, as she had no doubt that Andrea would have something to say. Yet the younger woman remained serenely quiet, waiting. 

Once in the room, the door clicked shut behind them. Andrea led Nan to the edge of the bed. Then, with slow and deliberate care, she removed the older woman’s robe, sliding the belt away first.

“Just so you know,” Andrea said gently as her hands delicately brushed cloth away and down, “It does not have to go further than this. I am perfectly content to simply help you to bed.” The younger woman smiled. “After all, we did awaken you.”

Nan rallied, grasping one of Andrea’s hands in her own. She kissed the palm. “I’ve rested and the truth is, you still owe me quality time. I did win, after all.”

Andrea’s smile quirked in amusement. “So you did. And what would you like for your prize?”

Nan smiled easily. “You.”


End file.
